


Syndicate

by Dreamcatcher37



Category: The Incredibles (2004)
Genre: But Great Googly Moogly, Everything Gets Set On Fire, Gen, Mostly OC, No Spoilers, OC Kids - Freeform, Set after movie, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 65,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamcatcher37/pseuds/Dreamcatcher37
Summary: Ten years after Syndrome's death and the return of the Supers, kids with powers are disappearing, one by one-stolen away to an island that's supposed to be abandoned. Told through their eyes. (An old fic revamped and finished. I own nothing, all hail Brad Bird.)





	1. Flight

_“This time I want someone younger than me. If that would be possible.”_   
_“Sure. Tell you what—you can pick which one we get.”_   
_“Really? ......I want the hypersonic one.”_   
_“Thy will be done.”_

Opal—  
I closed my eyes—still sitting on my bed in the lotus position—and thought, flight.  
Light flashed through my closed eyelids. I felt the sparks fly and brush over the pink bedsheets as my own human body disappeared. From the outside I guess it looked like I disappeared into a halo of light. To me…it’s pretty hard to explain. It’s like my body dissolved, and my substance-less being swirl down into a smaller form. I felt my consciousness fill out into my new body—first the tiny chest, through the sleek head and little pointed beak, then through to my new tail feathers and into my wings. I opened my weak sparrow eyes, and saw my bedroom from a whole different perspective.  
Then the sparrow’s instincts kicked in. When you have an animal’s body with an animal’s brain and an oblivious human’s consciousness sharing the same body, you get both human and animal influence over the little creature. And man, I was feeling it. The sparrow’s brain was panicking. _No sky! No freedom! Room constricting me! Fly!_  
Before the sparrow’s wings could open and start to flutter and thrash, I took back over. No matter how many times I practiced, I’d never get used to it. (Not that I practiced a lot.) I drew my wings back to my sides and tried to reassess using my sparrow senses.  
I spotted my backpack on the floor by my bed. That was relatively easy—black against light grey carpeting. My wooden desk in the corner, with last night’s homework on it. Chest of drawers on the wall to the left, one door ajar, mirror reflecting the lamp’s light. I awkwardly spread my newfound sparrow wings—thinking easy does it—used my tail feathers to keep me balanced on stick legs, and took off. Once I was in the air everything was cool. Breezy.  
I spun lazy loops around, trying to keep steady no matter how close I got to objects. I saw the sky through the window, and knew that was what I wanted. It was so pretty and free. If I could only swirl the cool, crisp morning air with my humbled little wings and taste freedom for a minute…  
Light! Noise! Predator! Intruder!  
In a moment of panic I went into a spiral dive, keeping the bedroom floor in my sight and hoping that whoever-it-was didn’t see me.  
“OPAL! The house mom said no powers!” my little brother cried. Too late to hide.  
“Aww, c’mon Sean! You gotta let this one go!” I whined, my human voice pouring out of the sparrow’s little beak. I tried to alight as gently as possible on the floor in front of him but still managed to fall over. (Not impressive, I know, but it was only my second time as a sparrow.)  
“No! Mom said! You’re gonna get in so much trouble…” Sean, that little red-haired imp cried, before turning on his heels.  
“I’ll be a kitty cat and let you pick me up around the middle!” I shouted. He turned right back around, and by the evil little smile on his evil little face, I knew that I was going to regret not holding my tongue. Picking up small, defenseless animals was his hobby.  
“After school.”  
I didn’t hear him—I was turning back to my human form. Once I had filled back into my semi-normal preteen body, and confirmed that I indeed was on the floor, then I actually cared.  
“What about school?” I asked, getting up.  
“Mommy said that the school bus cames in a few minutes.”  
“’Comes’, Sean. ‘The school bus comes in a few minutes’.”  
I heard something like an elephant trumpet outside the house. That would be the school bus that was _supposed_ to cames in a few minutes.  
In a flurry of motion I grabbed my homework off my desk, my shoes from the corner, my backpack, and ushered Sean out the door. My heart was thudding like a drum, and the only thoughts I had time to fret over were _We’re gonna be late, we’re gonna be late, we’re gonna be SO late…_  
It was MY responsibility to get Sean to the bus on time, now that we’d been put in a group home—so I dragged him all the way to where the bus was stopped, shoes in my other hand. Sean complained the whole way.  
We just barely made it, as Mr. Weatherly was closing the doors. He gave me a funny look when he spotted the faded red high-tops in my hand. I breathed a quick thanks, and started walking to the back of the bus. Sean got over his annoyance when he sat down with his friends and started talking. I just tried to ignore all the stares (and the stitch in my side) while I made my way to my seat.  
Lo and behold, there was someone already sitting there. This would happen today. She didn’t look familiar, and I’d have remembered her if I’d seen her before—Asian, with long black hair in pigtails, a studded jacket over a longsleeve forest-green shirt. Cargo pants and a ‘don’t talk to me’ expression completed the look. And her backpack (also green) was plopped in my seat. The bus started moving with a squeal of ancient brakes.  
“Uh, that’s my seat.” I said, hopefully loud enough to break whatever stupor she was in. She turned around and realized I was standing there, staring.  
“Oh. Help yourself.” She said, and hauled her backpack into her lap. I caught an annoyed glance from Mr. Weatherly, took the initiative, and sat down.  
“My name’s Ivy.” She said after a short while. I saw her sleeves had holes she’d hooked her thumbs through when she offered her hand to me. Very punk, very fashion. I shook her hand and said,  
“Mine’s Opal. Are you new here?”  
“Yeah. Just moved in a week ago. My neighborhood’s a bit away from yours. How’s the school here?”  
I asked her if she was going to the same school I was, as the middle and elementary schoolers ride this bus. Turned out she was. In my grade too. Admittedly, I’d been to a bunch of schools, and this one was neither here nor there, so I just offered, “It’s okay. The food’s edible at least.” with a faint smile on the corner of my lips. Ivy smiled back at me and my confidence went up a notch.  
Then the bus driver pulled over. He did that every couple of minutes, when the sixth graders were being too noisy, and I was about to voice my complaint to Ivy before he stood up and gave us the silence sign. Those sixth graders didn’t listen until he yelled at them—and he was scary serious. I’d never seen that expression on his face. Something must have been wrong.  
Mr. Weatherly listened for something…and everyone held their breath. Ivy and I stood up, scared to break the silence spell.  
I could barely hear it. Coming from somewhere under the bus.  
Tick, tick, tick……  
“Oh my God…” Mr. Weatherly breathed.  
“What’s happening?!” an eighth grader shrieked.  
Then the bus exploded.  
Through the fear and bewilderment, and through all the screams and the noise, I could barely make out what was happening. Glass shattered over me and Ivy as we started to fall out of our seat. The bus came crashing to earth, upside down. Something very hard and metal rushed up to hit me—first my head, then my shoulders, and my back. That took all the air out of my lungs but the world wasn’t done with me just yet. I looked around—the top of the bus, which used to be the floor, was filling up with smoke. Something—or several somethings—crashed through the busted windows. My vision was hazy, and they looked like thick ropes…  
Opened my eyes. On the asphalt, surrounded by glass and smoke. Someone here. A shadow passed over the sun, kept it out of my eyes. Colors and shadows warped.  
“This one. The sister.” The shadow that blacked out the sun said, pointing down at me. It left and started barking orders at others.  
“…Sean…” I muttered, trying to get out a whole sentence. Get Sean first. I hoped the paramedics understood that…  
Then I sank into peaceful, blissful blackness.


	2. Welcome to Nomanisan

_“Are they here now?”_

_“Just landed!”_

_“Just a small concussion bomb?  Enough warning? No collateral damage, right?”_

_“Well…hey, don’t give me that look.  I’ve got good news.  We’ve got two more.  Three for the price of one!”_

_“You sound excited.”_

_“I am!  Aren’t you?”_

_“…yes.”_

 

Ivy—

My first waking thought was, _I tried._

The bus.  I tried to get everyone out.  Honest to God, I did.  All I had to do was unwind vines from the forest just past the road and use them to drag everybody out.  But there was smoke and screaming and I’d hit my head and the only one I knew there was—

“…Opal?”  Jeez, that kind of hurt to say.

I tried opening my eyes.  Naturally, that hurt too (why wouldn’t it?)…..because I was staring right at a light.  No one answered my call-if I even said it out loud to begin with.  I closed my eyes again and tried to catch those wisps of memories swirling around in my brain.  I got the sense that we were quickly taken off the scene.  Someone talked to me when I was fading in and out there, asked me if I was the one that dragged the others out of the bus, and when I couldn’t answer, said something like “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”  Maybe I fought, I think I woke up and fought whoever was taking me.  Why’d I do that?  Man, my head did not feel good.  Where was I?  I sat up—slowly—and the little bits of memories slipped away.

Surely, I was in a hospital.  I SHOULD be in a hospital.  There were bandages on my wrist and a square of gauze taped to my forehead.  If I really was in a hospital, it was a fancy one.  Honestly it looked more like a suite in a hotel than a soulless white room with machinery.  I know my mom’s a lawyer but this was too high class to be a hospital.

I cast around with my powers, just to get my bearings.  Nada.  No flora, nothing for me to whisper to, to make do my bidding.  Ugh, I hate buildings without plant life.  No _soul_.

The room was kind of dim-thank God, that one light probably killed a dozen brain cells-so I only noticed the other bed when I was doing a mental inventory of the furniture.  I stared at it.  Like, _Bed?  But I’M in a bed.  Roommate?_ Yeah, roommate—someone else was asleep in that bed too.  Long brown hair with blonde highlights.  Fair skin, pretty oval face, skinny Barbie figure.  That girl from the bus—Opal.

“Hey!  Hey, you, can you hear me?” I tried to hiss-whisper.  At least _sound_ didn’t hurt too much. Opal didn’t hear me, just kind of tried to mutter something I guess.  I hissed her name again.

“…I’m dead, Sean….dead people don’t wake up early on Saturdays…” she said, then tried to turn over and go back to sleep.  I reached down on my bed and grabbed my shoe off my foot (at least I still had my own clothes on) and tossed it at her.  Direct hit!

“Hey!” she yelled, sitting straight up.

“Hey yourself!” I said back.

She looked around, rubbed her eyes.  “What’s going on?  Where _are_ we?” she said quietly.

“No idea.” I replied.  “Someone kidnapped us.”

“Someone….?  Why?”

“No idea...” I said.  And I _hated_ not knowing.

“…where’s Sean?” Opal asked, looking like panic was cutting through the sedated haze.  Her voice was pretty, and gentle, I noticed that on the bus—but when she asked where this Sean was, her voice had an icy edge of fear.

“He’s in the boys’ dorms.”

Strange voice!  Coming from the dark part of the room!

A strangled scream escaped me and in an instant, I’d whipped off my other shoe to throw.  Opal stuck to the nearest wall and used her blanket as a shield.

“Sorry.  Is there not much light in this corner?  I can’t tell.” a strange figure said.

The figure slowly came into focus—a girl (I guessed girl) with light hair, casually lounging in a chair, in the corner.  She didn’t look like much of a threat—in fact, I could probably take her, plants or no plants.  But that was still SUPER UNNERVING!

“Are you going to throw something at me?” She held up her wrist and put her finger on a white band there.  “Because I can summon the guards, or someone worse.”

I _slowly_ lowered the shoe.  “Who are you?” I demanded.

“Just someone who’s been here a long time.  I can assure you, you’re completely safe.”  She lowered the band, turned right to me, and smiled.  “My mentor talked to you.  In person.  You two must be very special.”

I exchanged a confused glance with Opal—she didn’t know what this weirdo was talking about, either.

“Who?  What’s going on?” Opal asked.

The girl’s face took on a look of concern and she leaned forward in her chair.  “How much do you remember of the last few days?”

My breath started catching in my throat— _How much do I remember?_   I remembered it all, the screaming and the glass in my wrist.  How I tried to get everyone out but didn’t know if I succeeded.  The bus was turned over-wasn’t it turned over?  Why did that happen?  That was slipping out of reach too.  I’d blacked out from the smoke and...woke up here.  The memories made it feel like the room was closing in on me…

“Just bits and pieces, I guess…” Opal said.  The strange girl nodded solemnly.

“Your school bus met with an unfortunate accident.  It was going pretty fast, hit a ditch, and you know the rest of that.” She said.  (That doesn’t seem right, I thought it was stopped when the bad stuff started happening…but it was flipped over, that I remember, and the more I tried to remember what caused it, the more she seemed right.)  “You were all brought to a local hospital while the NSA investigated the cause of the accident.  That younger boy was brought in with you.  He’s completely fine.  Ivy, you acted like a true hero back there…” she lowered her voice, like it was a secret. “…just don’t tell anyone I said that.  There was some legal debate about what happened in the minute leading up to the crash.  That’s why you were brought here from the hospital.  Your relations signed you over to us.”

My brain was spinning.  My parents didn’t know I had powers.  I’d let them find out!  And my mom had done this.  She _would_ have signed me over to the first shady organization that wanted to take me.  Fine.  I could deal with that.

But if I was here because I had powers…

“You’re a Super?” Opal and I blurted out the same time.

“Kinda.” I went first. “I have powers and stuff, but I’m not a Super _hero_.”

“Yet.” The stranger chimed in.

“So what can _you_ do?” I asked Opal.

She glanced over at the stranger, who was just looking back at her with mild interest.

“I….can’t really explain.  I’ll just have to show you.” She said.  I got up onto my hands and knees and backed away, just in case.

She inhaled and sighed—then she was just gone in this prolonged blue-and-white flash.  Just poof, pretty lights, then gone.  When all the fairy dust or whatever settled, in her place lay a curled-up calico cat with Opal’s green eyes.  It opened its green eyes and stared at me before getting up onto its paws.  It stretched, yawned, and sat back up.

“Yooooou’re a kitty.” I said with a crazed grin.  The girl I met on the bus could be a cat!  An adorable cat.

“A shapeshifter?” Stranger asked.

“Uh huh.” Opal said, her voice coming out of the cat’s mouth. “I can do other animals, but that’s it, just animals I’ve seen before.”

“Can you do anything dangerous?” Stranger asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I guess…I saw a tiger once at the zoo, I could do that with some practice.”  The kitty smiled.  “Hey, does anyone have some string you could wiggle around?”

“Focus here, Fluffy.” I said.

“All right—what do you do?”

“I control plants.  Well, mostly I tell them what to do.” I said, feeling kinda lame without anything to show off.

The Opal cat sat up and curled her tail around her paws.  “Did you get us out of that wreck?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.  Tried to.”

“Then thank you.”

Her words were genuine, too.  I’d never seen a cat look so sincere.  All I managed to reply was “Welc.”

Another flash and Opal the human was back, sitting on the bed.  We sat in silence for a moment before my shapeshifter friend turned to the girl in the corner and asked, in a low voice, “I need to know…did one of us cause that crash?”

I could see a solemn look on her face when she replied, “I don’t know.”

“If it was Sean, don’t tell him, all right?” Opal instructed.  “He’s too young to have that weighing on him.”

“Understood.”

Another moment of silence.  A companionable silence, a kind of tired silence.  It felt kind of late anyway.

“What can _you_ do?” I asked, again to the corner of the room.

The strange girl sat back in the chair with an almost pained expression and said, “Nothing.  I never went through the transition state.  I don’t have powers.”

“And how can we trust anything you say?”

“ _Ivy_.” Hissed Opal.  (Yeah, maybe that was a little bit rude.  I didn’t care though.  Didn’t care.)

“I’m in the same situation as you.  I could really, really use powers.” The light-haired kid said.  “And I can’t lie.”

I was gonna have her elaborate on that, but noise interrupted us.  The pneumatic door to our room slid open with a pneumatic sound—like Star Trek—and light poured in.  I just barely saw a hallway outside, going God knows where.  Man, that light didn’t feel good.  This guard in a navy outfit and visor that covered half his face poked his head in and ordered, “Lights out.  Back to your own room.”

The strange girl sighed, made a show of getting up on her own time, and walked to the door.  I’d guessed right when I said I could take her.  She couldn’t be more than 12, I saw in the hallway light, and an indoor kid.  Her hair was white and cut short (I bet she bleached it).  She stopped in the doorway—and this is where she gets creepy—when she turned to me, I could see her eyes were the milky white color blind people have.

“My name’s Crystal, by the way.  Welcome to Nomanisan.” She said.  Then she and the guard were gone, and the door pssh’d closed.

Opal and I were left in the silence.  Like hell I was going to go to bed.  I got up (kind of unsteady on my feet) and started searching for something to use as a weapon...just in case.  I found absolutely nothing.  What wasn’t like bolted down wasn’t useable.  There were drawers full of clothes—copies of the same ones Crystal was wearing.  A uniform, I guessed.  Light grey shirt with a black stripe across the middle.  Grey pants.  Ugh, no—I’d have to do some modifying there.  Other than my shoes there was nothing to throw at people, no windows, and no plant life.  Opal convinced me we’d need our strength for whatever tomorrow held and finally I gave in and went to bed.


	3. As Long as it Takes

_“How are they?”_

_“They’re still in shock…but they understand what happened.  One’s a shapeshifter, the other one is chlorokinetic.  But you probably already knew that.”_

_“We’ll find out what they rate tomorrow.  What about you?”_

_“Strange dreams.  Nothing new.”_

 

Opal—

I woke up early, expecting to be in my own bed.  It was the ceiling that confused me first.  Grey, not white like at the group home.  I took time to lay there and piece together the last couple of days.  _Sean must be terrified_ , I thought, getting up.  _I’m still a little bit terrified_.

Ivy was still asleep—and snoring softly.  I considered throwing her shoe back at her but decided to be the better person.  Finding clothes in my size, I changed in the adjoining bathroom, and went to wake Ivy up just as the door to our room slid open.

“Come on, kids, up and at ‘em.” The guard outside said.  “0800 hours.  Time for school.”

“G’weeeeeyyy….” Ivy moaned.  The guard frowned and closed the door.

Door slid open again.  “Breakfast in 15.”  Door slid closed.

 _That_ got Ivy up.  She got dressed, like me, and we compared outfits—we both agreed we’d have to do some modifying, if that was allowed.  A switch on the wall opened the door from our side.  Guards were waiting for us in the hallway.  And so was the white-haired girl, Crystal.  I could see her eyes were totally clouded over.  Could she really not see?  At all?  She didn’t make eye contact or track us as we approached.  Hmm.

“Your brother is this way.” She said, leading the way.

Ivy carefully watched all the doors we passed in the hall.  “These are all dorms.  Like, a dozen of them.” She whispered.

I was more concerned with the fact the guards had guns at their belts.  Maybe this place was like a prison.

Down the hall was another pneumatic door, leading to the boys’ dorms, and just behind it was—

“Sean!” I cried.

He broke away from his group and ran into my arms.  The poor boy _had_ been terrified.

“Sissy!” he said, and my God, it was good to hear his voice.

“Yeah, Sean.  It’s me.  Are you all right?  Did anyone hurt you?”  I frantically looked him over for wounds.

“I’m fine, I think…”  He leaned in closer and whispered to me.  “Sissy, he wants us for our power.”

I took a step back and looked at his face.  He seemed deathly serious.  I glanced to the teenager behind him, expecting that to be the “he”.

“No, not him.  The ghost.”  Sean said.

The long-haired teenager caught the frustrated look from Crystal.  “Hey, I didn’t say anything like that.  I dunno where he picked it up.” He said.

Crystal sighed and introduced him—“Ivy, Opal, this is Alan.  The only other kid here.  Alan, these are the new recruits.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” He looked away and said.

I wouldn’t have called Alan a kid.  He was maybe 15—tall, with brown eyes and long brown hair that almost reached his shoulders.  His posture was bad but through his shirt I could see he had the beginnings of a hero’s build.  He seemed like a normal mopey teenager, the way he was standing like gravity had more of an effect on him, and looking annoyed like he was too old to be hanging out with the little kids.

He definitely said something about ghosts to Sean.  I didn’t care if he was two years older than me, I’d kick his butt.

That thought was put on hold when a small, swallow-tailed, electronic _thing_ zipped into the middle of our group.  It hummed and flew straight to Ivy.  I’d never seen anything like it—just on instinct, I pulled Sean closer to me.

“Alpha.” Crystal said.  Its name.

“You know this—whatever?” Ivy asked.  She made a face at it.

“Yeah, there’s five of ‘em.” Alan offered.

“Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, and Theta.” Crystal said.

“This one stays with the boss.”

Alpha lit up Ivy’s face with some kind of laser beams and she ducked away.  “What the hell?!”

“It’s just learning your face, don’t worry—look.  Alpha, here.”  The white-haired girl held out her hand and the little drone flew to hover above her palm—Alpha had a little Greek letter printed on top of it, too, a lowercase a.  “Scan me.” She ordered.

Blue beams swept across her face, mapping it, before the thing beeped and said in an electronic voice, “Crystal Deirdre Avery.  1-dash-4.  Twelve years of age.  Asset A1.”

“Neat.” whispered Sean.

“Just let it scan you, I’m hungry.” Alan said.  The guards looked like they agreed.

Alpha flew to Ivy and quickly scanned her.  Before it could talk again she interrupted, “It’s Ivy—and I better not get any radiation poisoning from that.”

“Ivy.  1-dash-1.  Thirteen years of age.  Asset A5.” It relented.

Sean got labelled 1-1 and A3.  I got 2-2 and A4.  Then the thing beeped twice again and flew off.

 “Come on, we’ll show you the facility.” Crystal said.

On the way to breakfast she introduced us to the guards, whom she could identify by their footsteps and short sentences.  I only remembered a few of them.  There was Dave, who was totally okay with babysitting; Hal, who didn’t like kids but would teach us card games on the weekends _if_ he was in the mood; and the head of security, Raleigh, who was to be avoided unless you need to report something.  Breakfast was short and, surprisingly, good—even though Ivy was whispering about the food being poisoned or drugged or something.  I didn’t let Sean out of my sight the whole time.

Our first stop was this huge, circular, cavernous room near the top of the complex.  More like an amphitheater, really.  Our footsteps just barely echoed back to us.  The concrete floor was inlaid with these lines of metal, winding up the walls and even over our heads.  Thick glass lined part of one wall and formed a dome over our heads, through which we could see—

Sky!  And ocean!

I must’ve been gawking at the sight for a full minute when our teacher interrupted us.

“Enjoy the view, children, because that glass is six inches thick, bulletproof, and shock-proof.” The woman in the center of the room said.  She had a slight accent—Ukrainian?  “This is what we call the training room—where you’ll learn to use and control your powers.  You can call me Ms. K.”

Ms. K, later called the Harpy (by Ivy of course), was tall, black-haired, and stern.  Like, everything about her was stern—her face, how she dressed, and even how she held herself.  I really didn’t want to cross Ms. K.

She walked towards us from the center of the room.  “Look if you want, children, go on.”

Maybe it was a test?  I didn’t want to make her mad.  Sean kept his eyes on the Harpy’s face and stepped around her.  Holding his hand, I had to go with.  Soon we were running across the huge room, only stopping when Sean plastered his face against the glass and tried to take everything in at once.

Ivy stepped up beside me and breathed, “Oy vey…”

Oy vey was right.  There must have been hundreds of miles of tropical forest all around us, even a glittering river twisting through the trees a long way off.  As far as we could see, we were on an _island_ —in the middle of a vast ocean.  It was all…beautiful.

Nomanisan was an island.  My mind reeled.

(Hadn’t I heard that name before…?)

“Great view, right?” Crystal asked.

Sean unpeeled his face from the window and looked up at her.  “Yeah, it’s neat!  …you really can’t see it, can you?”  I gripped his shoulder tight, a “don’t do that!”.

Her jaw tightened just the slightest bit, and she turned back to the window.  “No.  I can’t.  But you know, I can feel the sunlight, and that’s close enough.”

“You don’t seem to have any trouble getting around.” I said, at least trying to be polite.

“I was raised here.  I know the whole island—the inside, at least.” She replied with a smile.

Alan joined our motley group at the window, with his hands in his pockets like a teenager trying to be suave and uncaring.  “Get a good look.  It’s the only one you’re gonna have in here.”

“They’ll let us outside, right?” I asked.

“Eventually.” Came the reply from the white-haired girl.

Ivy whimpered.  Actually whimpered.  She was plastered against the glass like if she tried hard enough she could phase through it.  All that green and no access to it—if there was a hell on earth, Ivy was in it.  (The plants by the window were actually leaning towards her.)

“All right, back now, this isn’t playtime.” The Harpy said.

We stepped back away from the windows—reluctantly.  For a minute I forgot we were here because we did something bad.

“We’ll start with a display of each of your powers.  A2?  You first.” Our teacher instructed.

Alan peeled himself away from the window with a dramatic sigh and walked to the center of the room.  The Harpy grabbed an unmarked box from a table (there were a few boxes there, I wondered what was in them), and tossed its contents onto the floor.  Pieces of metal and electronic bits scattered far and wide.  On some invisible cue, shudders slid down over the windows and arched over the dome, cutting off all but the artificial light.

The teenager stood stock still in the center of the room like some race was about to begin.  The Harpy gave him one last instruction—“Simulation 3.  Try to beat your one minute score.  And for God’s sake, try not to hit anyone else.”—and the windows darkened, metal shutters sliding over them.

 _Try not to hit anyone else?  Oh no._   I realized I didn’t know Alan’s power.  I grabbed Sean and stuck with (okay, hid behind) Ivy.

Alan held one hand out towards the metal bits and after a quick “3, 2, 1—“, moved them with his mind.

The electronics flew into a cloud in front of him and started assembling themselves into something at a rapid rate.  I could barely keep up.  Alan had this intense look of concentration on his face.  Figures were starting to appear around the circle, not like people but shapes made of blueish light coming from the floor and ceiling.  Holograms!  Alan’s eyes flicked up and saw them.  His concentration just doubled.

Whatever he was working on was almost done.  One figure took a step towards him.

It started running.

A last piece of Alan’s gadget clicked into place and he grabbed it out of the air, pointing and firing it at the hologram.  A bolt of something hit the figure and it dissolved.

Alan turned and fired at the next one, and the next, and the next—until the gun just made a clicking sound and the last hologram faded right before hitting him.

“Dumb connectors…” Alan muttered, hitting the gun with his palm.

“One minute twenty-three…well, it’s not awful.”  The Harpy walked up and held out the box to him, expectantly.  He started to put the gun back before catching a glare from our teacher.  The gun broke back into pieces and settled into the box.

“You have that telekinesis?  Like Carrie?” Ivy asked.  (Not a hint of fear, or even surprise in her voice.)

“More like electromagnetic manipulation of conductive—technopath, I’m a technopath.  And I see electric signals, like radio waves.”  Alan stuck his hands back in his pockets and joined us outside the hologram circle.

“And that thing was loaded with, what exactly?” Ivy asked.

“Fancy blanks.” Alan said sharply.

I could tell, they were going to be best friends.

“Who’s next?” our teacher asked, in a voice that was more command than question.

 _Crap, does she mean one of us?_   No one stepped forward.

“Someone volunteer, or I’m picking a volunteer.” The Harpy warned.  The worst words a student can hear…Sean tried to step forward but I kept a death grip on him.

“Fine.  A4, you, there.”

_Was A4 Ivy?_

“Yes, you.”

 _Crap_.  A4 was me.

I gulped and hoped she’d just magically change her mind.  My deer-in-headlights eyes only seemed to encourage her.  She motioned me forward with a sadistic smile, and I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I didn’t comply.

“Whenever you’re ready.”  That sounded more like a warning.  But whatever.

I took the floor in the center of the room, noticing just how big it was.  I remembered how the sky right above me seemed to go on forever-and knew exactly what form to use.  I thought ‘flight’ again.  And this time I managed to stay airborne right from the transformation.

“Whoa, cool!” Ivy shouted.

I zipped in a circle a few times—man, it felt good to have wings again!  A few happy-bird-noises escaped my little throat, despite my self control.  Alan whispered something to Crystal.  I think she muttered back, “A bird?  Lame.”

“What else can you do?” the Harpy asked, not impressed either.

“Tough crowd…” Ivy said.

“Uh, I can be a cat, an owl, a moth, a snake, and I think a tiger…” I said, hovering.  “I haven’t had much time to practice.”

“How good is your transition time?”

“Huh?”

“How long does it take you to turn into an animal?”

“I don’t know…I have to concentrate…”

“We’ll work on that.  Fall back in line.” The Harpy turned back to the group of kids and asked, “Who’s next?”

Predictably, no one volunteered.

To Ivy, she said, “We’ve already seen a demonstration of your powers in the field.  You’re a danger to the rest of us if you’re armed.”  Ivy crossed her arms and gave the woman her best steely defiant look.  I got my human body back and joined the group again.

“That leaves you.” Our teacher said to Sean.

“Maybe that’s not the best…” I started meekly, silenced by a raised hand.  Sean didn’t hesitate.  He did his best confident walk to the center of the room before I could stop him.  “…cover your ears.” I warned the rest of the group.

Sean took a deep breath—and I braced for the worst—but he just clapped a hand over his eyes and started making that clicking sound of his, walking in circles.

“…exactly what is he doing?” our teacher asked.  (I noticed she had an earpiece in…was she getting orders from somewhere else?)

“I’m echolocale-ing.  Like a dolphin!  I can see people through the walls, wanna hear about them?” Sean said.  That’s right, he said he was trying that, back at home.  I didn’t know he could actually do it!

“Echolocating.  Sure, let’s hear about the people.” Our teacher said.  She didn’t believe him.

My little brother walked closer and closer to the mirror wall, with his hand over his eyes.  (He said he likes the pressure of his hand there, he always puts stuff on his head.)  Only a few seconds passed before he turned back to the Harpy and said,

“There’s four people.  Four heartbeats.  The room’s not that big.  Like the kitchen in the Maitland’s house, Sissy, remember that?  One’s tall, a few are writing, they’re all watching us, I think ones wearing a cape—“

“That’s good, A3, stop now.”  Sean took his hand away from his eyes.

“I did okay?” he asked.

“Sure.”  Sean joined us again, and our teacher addressed all of us.  “Individual testing for the range and scientific data on your powers starts tomorrow.  Then the authorities will devise a training regimen.  You’ll be escorted to the classroom now—“

My shock at the words “training regimen”—at this whole situation, really—made me speak up.  “Training?  Just how long are we going to be here?” I said out loud.

The Harpy, she looked at me and said in a poison sweet voice, “As long as it takes for you to prove you’re responsible with your powers.  Now, as I was saying…”

I didn’t listen after that.  Because I knew what that tone of voice meant.  Not the sweet, condescending voice, but the meaning underneath her words.  I’d heard it time and time again from case workers and home managers.  She knew we’d be here a long, long time, and she didn’t particularly care if we spent our whole lives here.

We were ushered by guards back down into the facility, away from the natural light.  (I’m pretty sure I heard Ivy whimper.)  Like in any new home I kept a grip on Sean’s shoulder while we were given a guided tour, and I didn’t want to let go.  Somewhere in the hallway Ivy—straight-faced, fierce-eyed Ivy—took my other hand.  I felt a little braver after that.

Our next stop was the classroom near our dorms.  It was different from any classroom I’d been in…then again I’d only been in public school.  It had desks for maybe twelve students and didn’t look so much military as high-tech.  The whiteboard at the front, was that just a trick of the lights or did it seem to glow slightly?  I looked closer, and wondered if it wasn’t some kind of screen.  The whole facility, this room included, kind of gave off this aura of sleek, sharp-edged sophistication.

“Private school for Supers.” Sean said.  “Neato.”  Okay, at least he was taking this well.  He usually hates sudden changes, especially sudden _big_ changes. 

We were outfitted with books and such.  Ivy made a show about picking hers up off her desk, acting like they were revolting and maybe venomous.  After we’d checked out all there was to check out in that room, we were escorted back to the dorms, without the teacher.  Raleigh explained that today was just to test us and let us get to know our surroundings.  I suppose that was wise, I was still in too much of a shock to get any learning done today.

“Aren’t we going to play any of those annoying get-to-know-you games?  It is our first day of school.” Ivy asked, just begging to get the wrath of the head Guard.

“Boss already knows all he needs to know about you.” Raleigh said back.  I glimpsed the scar that ran up from his temple through his visor.  “You wanna play those games?  Take the rest of the day to get to know one another.”  His card opened the door to our section of the dorms and we were ushered inside.

“What now?” I asked in the hallway.  We must have had a couple hours before nightfall.

“Explore, I guess.  See what doors are left unlocked.  If I had to bet, I’d say ‘not many’…” Ivy turned to one of the guards left to stand watch on our side of the doors.  “Hey, do you know any secret tunnels around here?”

“We’re not supposed to talk to the assets.” The guard said stiffly.

“Come on, don’t be such a stiff.  There’s no school and no lab access.  We’re bored.” Alan goaded.  That didn’t even get a response.

“I wanna go outside.” Sean tugged at my shirt and said.

“Can’t.” Alan said, already halfway back to his room.  “Not allowed.”

Sean made a pitiful noise (maybe Ivy did too), and Crystal cut in.

“What he means is we can only go outside on certain days.” She reassured us.

“How come?” Sean asked.

“Enemy satellites.” Crystal pointed at the ceiling.  “They watch the island.  Bad guys have had their eyes on this place for ten years.  We can’t let on that anyone’s living here, a lot of people will do bad things to get their hands on young, impressionable Supers.  I don’t have to remind you what happened with Prometheus Corp, do I?”

Oh, yeah, I used to tell that story to Sean to make sure he was hiding his powers.

“The what now?” Ivy asked.  I was surprised she hadn’t heard about it—it was like a Super cautionary tale.

“My room, I’ll tell you more.” I said.  Not like we had anything better to do.

Five minutes later found me and Ivy sitting on my bed with me putting her hair in two French braids.  I hadn’t braided anything in, like, 48 hours, and Ivy said she felt so wrong without her Abby Sciuto pigtails.  (I told her Wednesday Addams would have to do.)  Sean was safely making his room the way he liked it and Alan, for some reason, was sprawled out on our floor, messing with some kind of watch.

“…Ultraviolet and the Dash—the Superhero duo—they infiltrated the company.  It turns out the cheap, clean energy Prometheus Corp had promised the world was coming from young Supers they’d taken and experimented on.” I concluded, trying to delay the inevitable Ivy/Alan catfight.  I was…kind of a nerd about Superhero lore.  After I found out my parents were both Supers, I kind of immersed myself in the history.  It made me feel closer to them.

“Yikes.  Whole company was in on it…that’s cold.” My friend said.

“They had some sweet tech, though.” Our carpet-surfer said.

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

“Does it annoy you?”

“YES.”

“Then that’s why I’m here.”

“Guys…” I breathed.

Our door opened again and where I halfway expected to see another guard, there was just Crystal.

“Al, did you take one of my tapes?” she asked.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answered, not even looking up from his device.

“You know your aura erases them!”

“You going somewhere?” Ivy asked the blind girl.  She was carrying a school bag.

“CEO class.” Alan answered, sounding just a little bit bitter.  “With our boss.”

“Mentor.” The girl corrected.

“Skip it.  We’ve finally got other Supers here!” Alan said, apparently forgetting Crystal didn’t have powers like us.

“Yeah, join us.  Let Opal braid your hair.” Ivy said, vacating her spot to flop on her own bed.

Crystal looked torn for a moment, but decided to stay with us.  She methodically picked her way across the unfamiliar floor, took my outstretched hand, and sat down in the vacant spot.  It was painfully obvious all this was new to her.  She reminded me of a young animal in unfamiliar territory.  I couldn’t help wondering how long she’d been here, and who raised her.

“So,” I started, figuring out what to do with her short locks.  “What’s your mentor like?”

Alan snorted.  “Neurotic.”

“ _Particular_ , and you’re not using ‘neurotic’ right.” Crystal snapped.  “He took over this place ten years ago, when the first owner died, and kind of made rescuing wayward and orphaned Supers his mission.”

“Where the hell did he find people like that Harpy?” Ivy demanded to know.

“Craigslist.” Alan said plainly.  _Craigslist, of course_.  “But she’s just a placeholder.  Listen, don’t expect to be treated like guests at a five-star hotel all the time.  You’re here for a reason.”

“What’s your reason?” I asked, innocently enough.  I was thinking maybe he was a relative of one of the employees, or maybe he was hired to work at the facility, with all the technology.  I bet the gadgets were his doing.

The teenager sighed dramatically.  “I messed with some school databases, got caught on camera taking stuff from vending machines…I got on some people’s radar in a bad way, like you.”

Ivy ignored that and addressed the girl on the bed with me.  “Hey, no offense or anything, Chrys, but…what’s your reason?” she asked.

Crystal smiled, like she’d been waiting all day for someone to ask that.  “I’m a homeostatic self-sustaining gadget with an advanced third-gen CPU, here to find security breaches and assist with this project.”

Ivy mouthed at me, “See?  Robot.”  I rolled my eyes at her.  The girl whose hair I was messing with wasn’t a steel creature, no matter what she was socialized like.

“You sure it isn’t because you’re _neurotic_ too?” Alan prodded.

To answer that, Crystal simply went, “Ivy?  Throw a shoe at him.”

“With pleasure.”  Ivy took off her sneaker.

“Don’t.” I warned.  And she (grudgingly) put her shoe back on.

“When do we get to meet this mentor?” Ivy asked.  I wondered if that determined, slightly eager tone meant she had something planned…

“Probably not for a while.  _Alan_ fixed that, didn’t you, technopath?” Crystal pointed out.

Alan was suddenly looking at his device and avoiding all our eyes.

“What did he do?” Ivy asked innocently.

“Tried to murder our mentor.” Was the simple answer.  My fingers paused in Crystal’s white hair.  Alan stared down at the device, not even working on it.  He kind of had a dark look on his face.

“…I was young, I was scared, and obviously it didn’t work.” he finally said.

“It’ll take a while for our mentor to trust you.  All of you.  Especially Ivy, he knows what you’re thinking of.  Until then we’re not supposed to give you any info.” Crystal explained.  Ivy’s eyes widened.  She reached a foot down and roughly poked Alan in the shoulder.

“Are there microphones in here?” she mouthed to him.

Alan took his sweet time looking around the room.  I remembered, he sees different light frequencies and electrical signals.  With a ‘you’re dumb’ look at Ivy, he said, “No.”

“How can we trust you?” Ivy said out loud.

“Hey, I tried to kill a guy.  I probably trust the people here as much as you do.” Alan said plainly.  He went back to his thing.

“If you’ve erased one of my tapes again, I’ll kill _you_.” Crystal warned.  I’m not so sure she was playing.

There was a moment of quiet as I kept on with Crystal’s hair.  It was short and there wasn’t much I could do with it (to make matters worse it just got more stick-uppy the more I messed with it) so honestly I was just playing.  The tenseness she’d had in her shoulders at the unfamiliar touch slowly melted away.  There was something odd I noticed.  A bit in the back, where it’d normally be hidden, was a reddish color.  I shrugged this off and the door opened yet again, this time revealing Sean, with that evil-little-brother look on his face.

“Now it’s a party.” Alan contributed.

“ _Why_ is this room so popular?” Ivy complained.

“Sissy, I just remembered something…” my little brother said.  “…You promised you’d be a cat.”

 _Oh dear_.


	4. Ancient History

_“Gadget, have you noticed anything odd about the hypersonic kid?”_

_“The boy that can yell at 140 decibels?  Yeah, he can do that.  His sister can turn into animals.  Alan can see radio waves.  You can move machines in the lab without touching them.  We’re all odd here.”_

_“I’m being serious, you haven’t noticed the speech thing?  The shutdowns?  The weird things he brings up?  Because I’ve been doing some research.  The candidate you picked out is autistic.”_

_“So?  He’s got a different neurotype, you said that’s common in Supers.”_

_“This throws a real wrench in my plans—”_

_“Really?  Because Ultraviolet’s the same way.  So were Gazerbeam and Gamma Jack.  Look, he’s already doing things with his power that other hypersonics could only dream about.  Adjust his training and give him the proper adaptations, and he can be a real Superhero.  Like I said.  We’re all odd here.”_

 

Ivy—

I dunno what I expected school would be like.  I think I expected, like, Stormtrooper school.  It was a bit like that—with the assignments on battle technique and all—but most of it was surprisingly normal, and like school on the mainland, it kicked my butt.  Math and science still killed me.  History was a bit different in the new curriculum.  It was more…honest, I think.  Like we learned about the background and achievements of America’s enemies, too, not just America.  Also some events I guess was supposed to be secret.  MK Ultra and stuff.  Sean got kid versions of textbooks and lessons that were on his grade level, which Opal jumped in to help him with, and Alan got his own assignments.  (If there was one thing the two of us could agree on, it was that school was overrated.)  We started stuff on Super history almost immediately.

“Now, how many of you can tell me why right now is called the Silver Age of Superheroes?” the Harpy started one day, maybe a week into the unit.

“In America it’s the Silver Age of Superheroes.” I mumbled.  We were in the middle of the Pacific, where nothing but training happens.

Sean’s little hand shot up.  “I remember!  Because of Tyto?” he blurted out.

“Almost.” The Harpy said.

“Because of the Superhero Registration Act, putting stricter limits on the activities of Supers, because of Tyto and Nighthawk.” Opal said—like she was reciting from memory.

The Harpy turned on her and said, in that poison-sweet voice, “You’ve obviously researched all about this.  Why don’t you tell the story?”

Opal swallowed and continued in her soft-but-smart cadence.

“Tyto was the name of a really powerful superhero that appeared on the East coast a couple months after the ban on Supers was lifted, almost right after the Incredibles…”  Her voice trailed off and she made a face, like she was caught off guard by this memory loss.  I would’ve chimed in and finished that sentence….but God, I couldn’t figure out what she could’ve meant by that, either.  The more I dug around for that memory the farther away it got.  Opal just picked up the story and continued.  “…right after the ban was lifted.  He could fly, control metal, and do something funny to people’s brain and body chemistry.  The public only knew about his first two powers, of course.  He sometimes appeared with his partner, who had flight and a sort of inky forcefield.  They were Tyto and—“

“Nighthawk!” Sean cried, striking a pose in his seat, obviously a fan of the Super.

“Exactly.”

I remembered those two, from pictures in the papers when I was younger.  My dad would always do his _tsk_ of disapproval when news of Supers came up.  Tyto, he was the handsome one, with long golden hair, and a suit of silver armor, looking like a modern-day knight.  This red cape was always draped over his shoulders, so either he was cocky enough to risk the Cape Curse or he was basically indestructible.  He had a full-face mask that looked like an elegant barn owl and he was always in the spotlight.  Really kind and charming.  His partner hated any public attention, and liked a more traditional mostly-black suit.  People said Nighthawk was going to turn evil.  He kinda fit the evil-looking stereotypes.  Tyto didn’t.

“What _exactly_ happened to enact the Super Registration Act?” the Harpy pried.  (Not for the first time, I thought about kicking her in the face.)

“Well, Tyto had a really successful career.” Opal started again.  “Then a villain showed up and declared himself Tyto’s nemesis.  He called himself Strix, another guy in a dark metal suit that was almost Tyto’s match.  Their battles were legendary.  Until—“

“—Until it turned out the famous superhero had pulled a Syndrome and made his own villain.” Alan interrupted.

“No one asked why Tyto didn’t control the metal Strix was wearing…” Crystal muttered.  I’d almost forgotten she was here.

“Tyto had gotten bored with the villains, the challenges, people were putting in front of him.” Opal explained.  “So he kidnapped an accountant and his wife.  He took a nobody, held his wife hostage, mind-controlled him, and made him into a villain.”

“Not exactly.” The white-haired girl chimed up, louder.  “Adrien Andor—Tyto—really believed the act he was putting on.  Strix was another alter-ego of his.  No one could tell where Strix ended and Tyto began.”

“Anyway, the accountant snapped out of it during a televised battle, and told the cameras what had happened.  Tyto made the mistake of trying to control him again and the lie was over.  Nighthawk fought him, and with the help of the accountant and other Supers, Tyto was killed.”

“Defeated.” Alan corrected, absently scribbling at something in his book.  “Buried under a building.  No body, no death.  He could still be out there…”

I thought that would be a great time to hum the Twilight Zone theme song.  No one else seemed to agree.

“Why do you think the nobody could snap out of it?” Sean asked, all wide-eyed.

Opal couldn’t answer, so Alan, that ray of sunshine, piped up again.

“’Cuz the accountant found out his wife was going to have a baby.  Tyto made a stupid mistake.”  Scribble, scribble.  “Don’t ever get between someone and their kid.”

Okay, so in future Super work, don’t kidnap anyone.  Interesting—in this weird pseudo-school, I was already learning more than in nine years of public school.

The class went on to talk about the restrictions put on Supers.  Like how everyone had to be registered with the NSA (which I guess we were after the bus incident), and all missions came through the NSA, and all Superheroes were held accountable to the (you guessed it,) NSA.  The American public thought this was a good way to avoid all the damages that brought around the end to the Golden Age and stop the bad heroes before they threatened the world with another ban.  Now it’s the Silver Age of Superheroes.  And I still kinda want to kick the Harpy in the face.

Homework—ugh, we had HOMEWORK.  On a tropical island!  So unfair.  That should be illegal!  At least we found quiet places to work, and we could help each other.  Mom Friend Opal naturally kept everyone on track with schoolwork.  Alan, with the excuse that “it’s like painful watching you struggle”, pitched in to help me with math.  I schooled him on biology (he knew everything about electricity and types of radiation, but people and nature were alien to him).  On homework, at least, we had a tense truce.  Sean struggled along with his first-grade lessons.  He’d much rather play with sound.

On schoolwork we could work together but in training, we were often separate.  It all started with tests of the “upper” and “range” limits of our powers.  Weeks of tests.  I was beginning to think the dumb island was run by a bunch of nerds.  They had me see how far I could sense into the forest outside.  (I could sense their men cutting into trees a hundred yards away.)  They had me grow plants just on the other side of the thick glass too.  Even though she doesn’t do so good with everyone watching her, Opal perfected turning into the animals she knew.  There were a good number—like 13.  When the rest of us were safely behind a one-way mirror, Sean could scream his little heart out in the training room.  He found out just how loud, how long, and what pitches he could scream at.  Instruments in the room measured all his outbursts.  The Harpy told Opal that he could already knock out a grown man (and his room was soundproof just in case.)

He was shy at first, in that training room.  We’d all had to hide what we could do from the world.  Neither of those siblings had been allowed to stretch their metaphorical (or literal) wings.  I got a chance to stretch mine a few days after they’d run out of other tests.

After school I’d bounded into the room, as usual, and immediately I could tell there was something different.  Maybe it was the extra guards at the doors.  Probably it was the presence of something green and living in the room.  I zeroed in on the source of it—a metal box full of dirt on the table to the side.

“What’s goin on today?” I dared ask the teacher as she strode in (bringing a cold chill with her).

“You’re getting to show off your powers.” She answered.

Everyone stood back against the walls and the box was placed at my feet in the middle of the room.  I could sense three seeds nestled inside, as bright as Alan said he could see wifi in the dark.  I felt the very beginnings of life in those three little seeds.

Was I excited?  Understatement of the century.

“Just grow them up, and manipulate them if you can.” Were the Harpy’s simple instructions.

_If I can?  Oh, I can do much more than that._

I reached a hand out and started pouring my energy into the three little points of light.  Soon they reached out delicate little roots and started to sap energy from the dirt around them too.  Barely three seconds had passed before green buds appeared above the rich soil.

In no time at all the plants (three kinds of native vine) were at knee-level.  Then waist-level.  Just before the Harpy’s voice sounded again, they were well above my head, held up there by my own power.  I could make them bend and coil and do whatever I wanted.  I was just about to turn to Opal and ask, “Pretty metal, right?”

“Simulation 3.” The Harpy said suddenly.  “Don’t disappoint me.”

Sunlight started to disappear behind metal shades and I didn’t even have time to say “Wait, what?”

Hologram people started forming.  I’d never used my power to fight, but some raw instinct buried deep in my bones took over.  When the first one attacked I lashed out with all three vines and smacked it in the chest.  They went right through, of course, but the hologram man disappeared.  The next one ran up from the left—I swung the vines into its neck and only had a second before the third disappeared on top of me.  The fourth and fifth ones got direct strikes to the torso, but the sixth one I missed when it came up from behind.

The lights came back up and the Opal-Sean dynamic duo were applauding.  Alan was doing his best to look unimpressed.  I took that as a compliment from him.  I was grinning uncontrollably, even when the teacher demanded I shrink back down the vines and she took away the box.  Someone wanted to run some tests on the plants, like see what I was doing on a cellular level.  Whatevs.  I kicked hologram butt, and that was cool.

I wasn’t the only one who got run through the simulator.  Opal got her turn a week later.  Honestly she didn’t do great.  She didn’t like hurting people—a real flower child.  Someone behind the scenes changed the hologram so they were holding weapons and she did a little better then.  Even managed to use three transformations in one run!  My flower child princess could kick some butt, when she wanted to.  Alan spent his time upping his scores and assembling new kinds of weapons.

Sean got his own type of simulator.  He’d aced the first runs he was put through, because all he had to do was turn around and scream at the hologram dudes when they formed.  Like a week after Opal’s first run, the teacher gathered us in the observation room, informed Sean that he’d just be using his hearing and avoiding the targets for this one, and told the simulator to go ahead.  This time all the lights went out.  It was pitch dark in the training room and the one-way mirror turned into a thermal screen.

The youngest Super waited in the dark for a minute and just listened.  Then his head turned and he seemed to hear something to the right.

“Acoustic holograms.” Alan said with a little bit of pride.  “The room manipulates sound so he’s hearing footsteps and breathing from people that aren’t there.”

Sean turned and just barely avoided a little tracker labelled 1 on the screen.  Then 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 came at him, and he made a game of dancing out of reach of those too.  The simulation ended, light came back, and little Sean blinked in the empty space.

“Did I do good?” he asked the one-way mirror.  Opal practically screamed a “yes!” and he heard that too, and grinned.

The next day, someone got in the training room that I never thought I’d see in a simulator (or in training at all).  Powerless, helpless, blind Crystal.  She was wearing something around her wrist that locked in with that band she always had to wear.  I didn’t have time to ask her any questions about it before she’d stepped out into an already pitch-dark room, alone.

We watched in silence as her simulation started.  As soon as her first customer materialized and got within range, she dropped back into a stance, held out her hand (the arm that had that device), and—

Bang!  Those hearing instruments picked up a solid sound, like a small explosion.  On screen tracker 1 flew back a good dozen feet.  She used the same move on the next acoustic bad guy, but had to dodge the third, dropping into a marriage-proposal kneel.  The third was practically on top of her when she shot it, sending it into number 4.  We were all just in awe.  She dispatched the rest and ended the last hologram with a punch-bang combo to the head, for good measure.

As the lights came back she stood up and loudly said, “You thought I was helpless, didn’t you?”

Okay.  So that’s a few stereotypes crushed…

“What’s she wearing?” Opal whispered to Alan.

“Concussion blaster.” He explained, like it was all obvious and oh-so-normal.  “Who did you think the auditory holograms were built for?”

“What is she _learning_ in CEO class…?” I muttered.

After my good display earlier, I was allowed to train with some harmless plants.  I even walked into my room one day to find my iPod—my precious, precious iPod—was sitting on my bed like I never lost it.  I’d had it in my backpack that fateful day with the bus, and I guess whoever kept all my stuff saw fit to give it back.  The message was pretty clear.  Cooperate, and get your stuff back.  I could do that.

Bit by bit we started using our powers outside the training room.  Even though the guards didn’t like it, we got comfortable using them.  Opal turned into animals when she saw fit and Sean played hide-and-seek games with his echolocating.  Our training work even extended a bit into our school work.  We had to do an assignment about our powers, what it felt like to use them and what our ‘triggers’ were.

‘Triggers’, I’ve learned, were superhero speak for what you think or do to make your powers happen.  Like Ultraviolet used to say “trap!” to make her forcefields happen.  Opal gives a different thought to each animal she has, like “power” for the tiger, and she concentrates on that until the beautiful flash of light happens and she’s there.  Her triggers were neat.  I guess Sean just screams really loud.  Sometimes I feel like doing that too.  (A sonic scream that could knock down walls would make jamming to metal music hard.)  ‘Trigger incident’ is different—it’s the first time you can remember using your power, or a thing that happens that makes you re-discover the power you were born with and probably forgot.  My earliest memory of my powers was…making plants grow for my stunned father, out at the ranger station.  I was five.

I couldn’t help but wonder…if this was the education I was supposed to get, as a Super.  (Weird thoughts like that kept circling in my head.)  My powers bloomed, and I hardly missed my dad at all.  Funny how Nomanisan makes you forget the world outside…


	5. Headlines

_“They’re all settled in now.”_

_“And under control, Gadget.  I think it’s time to look for another asset.  Intel’s found eight candidates already.”_

_“I want to meet the teleporter, the one you talk about so much…I want to know why he’s so important.”_

_“In time.”_

_“I can’t know why we’re being so secret, either, can I?_

_“Later.”_

 

Ivy—

Opal and I had just settled down for lights-out when a guard (Dave, I think) opened our door and poked his head in.

“Crystal in here with you?” he asked.  Right, Creepy Chrys.  We hadn’t seen her in a while.

I looked around the (obviously Chrys-less) room and said, “Don’t think so.”

“Okay.  Well, alert one of us if you see her.”  And Dave left.

He opened the door again.

“I was never here.  Everything’s fine.”

And was gone again.

(“My mentor says Dave’s an idiot.  A well-meaning idiot, but still an idiot.” The kid in question once said.  Opal asked “Why?”, and without looking away from her handheld videogame, she answered, “Dave’s got a fiancé on the mainland and expects her to still be there when his contract’s up….besides, have you SEEN the guy?”)

Yeah, Dave the Guard was a questionable hire.

I sat up in bed and turned to Opal.  “Hear that?  She’s missing, now’s our chance to find out what she’s up to.”

I was still suspicious of the kid.  My friend, however, just gave me a tired look when I suggested going after her.

“Ivy, it’s late.  I’m sure nothing’s up.” She protested.

“Come on, come on, I really need your skills!” I said, putting on my shoes.  I’d go with or without her.

“We’ve never done anything like this before, we’ll get caught—“

“Not if we’re careful and back in our beds by 11!” I gestured at her with my flashlight to get my enthusiastic point across.

She gave me a ticked-off look and blew a lock of hair out of her face.  “Fine.  We work _together_!”

“Awesome!” I said with a laugh.

Maybe the guards were thinking Chrys’d wander back on her own or something—because they left the door to the girls’ dorms unlocked.  Twenty minutes later, Opal as an Arctic wolf and I with my flashlight-weapon were winding through odd corridors.  We had to stop and start, as the place was CRAWLING with staff.  This was the first time I’d seen the rest of the facility.  Alan and Crystal weren’t lying, there was like a whole company HQ here.

We darted down another hall (with me quietly humming my own theme music).  Opal the wolf said out of the corner of her mouth, “Quiet!  We’re getting close.”  I took the humming down a notch—but only a notch—and wondered what we’d find in the secret room at the end of Opal’s scent-trail.  Crystal practicing secret powers?  Secrets the company wouldn’t want found?  A hidden romance?  I bet it’s Raleigh and the Harpy, they DESERVE each other….Maybe we’d even find the elusive Boss everyone keeps talking about.  Just in time for the next turn, I snapped out of my wondering—

And skidded to a halt just before the T-junction.  A pair of guards were about to intersect us.  I flattened myself against a wall and Opal did the same (you know, as well as a wolf can do).  We could hear their voices coming down the hall.

“….and—and another thing, why aren’t there any woman guards?”

“Ugh, I _know_ , I’m _dying_ —“

“No, I mean, we seem to have pretty sexist hiring processes, when you look with an objective eye…”  The guards seemed to stop just before our hallway.  “…why aren’t there any girl guards?  Or girl technicians, come to think of it?  Who’s in charge of hiring, anyway?  Why hasn’t any legal group prosecuted the company for this?  No matter what governmental jurisdiction it falls under, this is obviously against anti-discrimination laws!”

“Our mortality rate is well over 50%.  _No one’s_ gonna complain when your mortality rate is over 50%.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah.”

Without seeing us, the guards kept walking, this time muttering about vending machines or something.  Opal and I shot each other “what to heck?” looks and waited for the coast to be clear.

“This way!” O Captain my Captain darted off down a darkened hallway.

“I don’t have four legs, _wait up_!” I hissed.

Opal stopped dead in front of a door and nearly tripped me.  “This is it…”

Suddenly the door slid open!

“What took you so long?” the short figure standing on the other side demanded.  It was just Crystal, alone in a darkened room.  I slowly lowered the flashlight and tried to look like I didn’t just have a heart attack.

“Were you—?  Did you want us to come after you?” Opal asked, still sounding as shocked as I felt.

“Yep.  Come on.”

“Could’ve just said something…” I muttered, stepping into the room.

“That’s not as fun.” Crystal retorted, closing the door when we were both inside. 

“There are guards out there looking for you, they think you’re missing!” Opal pointed out.

“ _Psh_ , they lose me every Thursday.  It’s an event with us.  Like Sunday brunch or Tuesday night Texas Hold ‘Em.”  The cocky twelve-year-old walked away.

Opal changed back (our young friend didn’t even notice the flash) and I took in the room.

It was maybe two stories tall, maybe twice as big as the whole ranger station back home.  The far wall was all computer monitors and machinery—most of which seemed to be glowing softly in some sort of sleep mode.  The screens that were on showed different programs running.  I caught something labelled “Maintenance Cycle—Beta” and “Maintenance Cycle—Gamma”.  Beneath that was like a news feed (about Supers), looking more like a digital conspiracy wall.  To the far right was a collection of data nonsense and still pictures of some person.  Crystal had obviously pulled up a bunch of webpages on the big center monitor.  The console that ran under the computers had an oddly…Braille-enabled space?  That’s what our weird friend walked right to.  But by far, the most impressive part of the room were the twin columns that stood in the center of the room, entirely made of computer and cyan lights and steel supports.

“What is this place?” Opal breathed.  “The workshop?”

“The main computer, looks like…” I said back.

“Nope.  Those are both _much_ bigger.  This is a pet project of my mentors’.  This is where we program the holograms and raise the dead.  Breaking the laws of light and physics?  Easy.  The valley of uncanny?  That was the difficult part.”

I kind of struggled to keep up.  “Holograms?  Like the training room?”  Opal asked.

“Yes, and…” Crystal tapped a few things on the console.  “Beta, Gamma, up.  Cloak and run the last holos.”

Twin beeps sounded from somewhere in the room and not one but TWO of those little probes rose up from some hitherto-unseen docking ports and hovered.  Then they _vanished_ into thin air and suddenly we weren’t alone in the room.

Two adults were standing in front of where the probes had been.  I’d kinda been expecting something more like “help me Obi-Wan” but if you didn’t look too closely…these things looked REAL.  One was a woman with long brown hair, the other a respectable-looking man in a business suit.  They even blinked once in awhile.

Crystal read off some display on the braille board.  “Civilian Naomi and Chief Executive Officer Jonas.  Ladies and gentlemen, the head of Omnico’s ghost Board of Directors.  My mentor talks to ‘em sometimes, how crazy is that?”

Staring at the ‘civilian’, I still struggled to put the pieces together.

“What’s that, then?” I asked, pointing over my shoulder at the twin columns.  “What are those?”

“…I guess you’re gesturing at something?”

 _Oh.  Right_ , I thought.  “The computer stacks, they’re—?“

“Two positronic brain cores.  Not actual A.I., don’t worry, everyone knows A.I. go homicidal.  They’re just…centers of the brain, recreated in machinery.  Language and Visual.  Respectively.  You know how you can hear a voice, memorize it, and imagine it saying whatever you want?  These computers do that.  We give them sound and pictures from whatever source—thank God for the age of social media!—and they give back information for the holograms.”

“Neato…” Opal breathed, looking at the columns’ lights change.  Alan must’ve spent years on those things.  Guess he’s smarter than I give him credit for.

“We don’t have much time.” I reminded them.

“Right, what’s this about?” O Captain asked.

Crystal seemed to sober up.  She grabbed a stray computer chair and sat down in front of the main monitor.  “Well, when you couldn’t remember a huge part of Super history…I got curious.  So I went around some parental controls and did some Internet sleuthing.”

 _Didn’t know a blind kid could get on the Internet_ , I thought.

“This computer’s very me-accessible.  Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” Crystal said pointedly at me.

“Right.”  _Crap, didn’t realize I’d said that out loud_.  I avoided whatever look Opal was sending me as Chrys brushed aside a stray tape and pulled up the right webpages.  The keyboard thing she was using was so odd—like a fine flat grid, with dots at some intersections but not others.  When she’d press down with two fingers and move a page the raised dots would change.  It finally clicked that this was some kinda braille board, like on her game, putting what was on screen under her fingertips in a way she could read.  I’d never seen tech like in this room.

The headlines on the monitor stole my attention.

“Incredible ordeal overseas!”

“Robot attack!”

“Old Heroes Dead: Villain’s Second-In-Command Tells All!”

“Ban on Supers lifted after Municiberg battle?”

“New Super family?  Exclusive interview with ‘Mrs. Incredible’ Inside!”

I got that feeling, like something was on the tip of my tongue, or like I was just barely not-remembering something important.  The headlines stirred up this sense of familiarity but I really couldn’t remember where I’d heard all of it before.  Like an itch I couldn’t scratch, the longer I thought about it, the more it drove me crazy…

“Wait…what’s that one over there?” Opal said.  She didn’t wait for an answer, she reached over Crystal and pressed stuff on the board.  An article called “Heroes, Remembered” got pulled up full-screen.  Below the headline were old black-and-white pictures of masked heroes.  Opal stared a long time…I studied her face and decided she was getting that same mental block.

Chrys’s fingertips wandered the little pictures that popped up on her board.  “Yeah, we’ve got holos of these people too.”

Opal just…stared, at two pictures particularly.

“Is any of this familiar to you?” our friend in the spinny chair turned to us and asked.

“Kind of.  Sort of?  It’s all foggy.” I said.

Opal pulled up one of the articles about the Incredibles and started, “Let us take a look at—“

Suddenly Crystal’s hand was on her arm and the white-haired girl was listening intently to something I couldn’t hear.  By the scared look on her face, I knew she was hearing something outside.  Or someone.

Her hands started flying over the board—exiting out of tabs as fast as possible. 

“Hide.  When I give the signal, you run back to your rooms, and don’t tell anyone what we found!”

A flash of light, and I couldn’t see Opal in the dark anymore.  Without thinking I hid in the only place I could find—behind one of the computer cores.

_Wait…what’s the signal?_

Crystal was still deleting evidence of her investigating, and I was about to ask her what she meant, when the door behind me slid open and light poured in.  Chrys spun towards the sound, with a deer-in-headlights look on her face.

 _What’s the signal?!_   I definitely started panicking.

“Crystal, Crystal, Crystal…what have you gotten into now?” someone at the doorway crooned.  I didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to any of the guards…

“…I didn’t do anything wrong.” Chrys said, sounding like a little kid who’s been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“We’ll see about that.  Come on.”

The girl sheepishly got up and walked between the two columns.  I felt a breeze as she passed me.  On the floor I saw a silhouette in the light from the hallway—a tall figure I was sure I hadn’t seen around.  Where was my friend?

Something fluttery landed in my hair and I just BARELY bit back a scream.  Something that looked like a butterfly crawled down onto my bangs.

“Can you see who’s out there?” it whispered in Opal’s voice.

“No.  Can you?” I breathed.  I was so scared the person at the door could hear.

The little bug thing crawled off my head and onto the computer.

“You know you’re not supposed to use the web unsupervised!  Bad guys can trace the IP address back here.”

“I was careful!  I routed it through three different servers, like you taught Alan!”

“Don’t use that tone with me.  You’re still in trouble.”

“What do you see?” I whispered, as loud as I dared, to the moth.

“Not much.  I think it’s the boss out there.” The moth whispered back.  Yeah, pretty much figured that voice belonged to the guy everyone got orders from.  He sounded arrogant enough.  “These eyes aren’t—uh oh, he’s coming in here!”  The moth booked it back onto my bangs.

I tensed up and waited to be caught.

“You know what?” Chrys said, voice sounding loud and clear.  “I don’t believe in the bad guys anymore.”  And her shadow left the doorway.

Cripes, was that the signal?  I still couldn’t tell.

Then there was a short, sharp cry from somewhere down the hall.  I saw the tall figure turn towards the noise, heard him mutter a swear word, and that shadow was gone too.

“Was that the signal?” I whispered.

“ _Go_!” Opal hissed.

I booked it to the doorway and—with my heart pounding out of my chest—made sure the coast was clear.  There were voices sounding down another hall but they wouldn’t see our escape.  With the bug still clinging to my hair I booked it the hell outta there. 


	6. Capture the Flag

_“That was dangerous.  You could have compromised island security.”_

_“I knew what I was doing!”_

_“You have no idea what you could have done!”_

_“Is it true?  Are you supposed to be dead?”_

_“…We’ll talk about this later, Gadget.”_

_“I just need to know—“_

_“Later!”_

 

Opal—

Finally— _finally_ —the five of us were allowed outside.

Or, not allowed, exactly.  We were taken outside on a Saturday for a new sort of training exercise.  We weren’t told exactly what it would be but Alan got to bring along a box of his, Crystal had her concussion thingy, and Ivy got some seeds, so we suspected it would be like a fighting simulation.  About fifty guards were already in formation when we arrived at the place we’d be playing in.  Alan called it the Tidal Flats.

If the walk through the jungle wasn’t enough to showcase the island’s beauty, this place was.  The ground was flat and barren (it was a tidal flat after all, the salt kept anything much from growing, which I suspected is why it was safe to let Ivy play there).  There were tons of natural rock columns that went straight up, topped by their own green growth.  A few had collapsed or been knocked down over the years.  It was defensible enough that we could be kept there by guards, and it sort of reminded me of a bigger, cooler, natural laser tag arena.  I hadn’t been able to use my wings outside…well, ever.  I was definitely excited.

It was a sunny day on the tropical island, but a wind off the nearby sea kept everyone cool enough.  I’d call this place paradise.  How did we get so lucky, Sean and me, to be brought here?

Speaking of Sean, he clung to Alan’s arm the whole walk through the jungle, talking about how he was going to be on the teenager’s team.  Ivy ticked off the guards by stopping every dozen yards to scoop soil into all her available pockets.  (The girl is weird.)  She kept talking about how fertile the soil here was, even while she was handing me a lavender flower to tuck behind my ear.  She has a brash, offbeat charm that I love, that Ivy.

Alan distracted her by quietly asking, “You were a forest ranger, right?”

“Yeah.”  She tore her attention away from naming obscure jungle plants.

“What was it like?” Alan asked.  I tried not to eavesdrop but this was so unlike him…

“What the heck?  Why?” Ivy asked.

“My mom was a forest ranger.” Alan said in this distant way, like he was remembering someone he knew only in ancient memory.  Ivy gave in and started talking about the ranger station and her Search-and-Rescue contacts.

When we got to the edge of the Tidal Flats, Ms. K informed us of the rules for being out here.  They basically boiled down to “don’t try to escape.”

“And a message, straight from the Boss.” She finished up with, in a very serious tone.   “’Don’t break my island.  It was expensive.’”

Looking up at the columns, we all said we understood.

The game we’d be playing was basically Capture the Flag.  Between each round, those two little swallow-tailed things that were producing the holographic flags would hide in different places.  The teams would get shuffled up—they were different each round.  To capture the flags, we’d have to fight one another, no holds barred.  And to top it all off, we were being filmed.  Hearing this gave me some pause at first.  If Sean and I were on different teams, I wouldn’t fight him.  We wouldn’t hurt each other.

I told the teacher this, and she just replied, “Then be careful and get to your flag first.”

For an adrenaline junkie like Ivy, this game was ‘totally killer’.  She got into a competition with Alan, who was wielding that stun gun again, and those two were almost always on different teams.  I’ll admit, I got a little into the game, too.  Crystal actually stormed off after the first round.  Even with her weapon, and how she loved being in the middle of Super-action, she just couldn’t keep up with us.  Maybe we just weren’t making a great effort to include her…

She’d been acting weird lately.  Between rounds 2 and 3, I had to wonder if it had something to do with that bruise on her forehead, and whatever happened a week ago.

I saw the bruise one morning and started fussing over her (Sean said I was in ‘mom mode’).  I demanded to know where she got it, and she grinned, with this both proud and excited look on her face.

“That?  I ran into a wall.  Great distraction, huh?  I took quite a lecture for you guys.”  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “You escaped in time, right?”

I racked my brain to see what she was talking about.  I honestly couldn’t remember.  “Escaped from what?”

She had this weird, disappointed look on her face, and seemed to remember something we didn’t.  Some incident in a computer lab.  She kept asking about it, but couldn’t say too much in front of island staff.  We didn’t know what she was talking about, and eventually, she dropped it.  I wondered if she was okay.

Back at the Tidal Flats, the next round was beginning.  Our teacher’s voice dragged me away from my thoughts.  No time to worry about people that couldn’t keep up with us Superheroes.  It was time for round 3.

This one would be Sean and Alan versus Ivy and me.  Sean got his wish.  Ivy and I—when we were on different teams, we couldn’t get past one another, we were both too good.  When we were on the same team, however…we were unstoppable.  We’d had just enough time fighting against one another that we all had an idea of what the other fought like.  What moves they’d use, what strategy they’d take, et cetera.  This round would be intense.

We started far apart on opposite sides of the clearing.  The flag Ivy and I needed was somewhere behind Sean and Alan.  Theirs was behind us.  Ivy and I shared a knowing look and glanced to signal the ways we’d be going.  I flipped my braid over my shoulder and got in a ready stance.

The Harpy’s voice rang across the Tidal Flats, amplified by some unseen speaker.

“3…2…1…Begin!”

And we were off.  Ivy took off to her side, me to mine, trying to flank the two boys.  Sean let loose a directed scream in my direction and I stumbled, but avoided it.

Ivy wasn’t so lucky, a glance told me—fancy blank fire cut off her path.  Vines were already an impressive size, wrapped around her arms, but if she wasn’t careful she’d be ‘shot’ and eliminated.

I circled way around Sean and almost made it behind a stone barrier.  I saw his attack coming from a mile away and in a second, I was a sparrow, catching air currents to shoot just above his sonic waves.  I soared over an old fallen pillar and circled back behind a standing one for cover.  _Where is that flag?_

Sean, even though he was small and slow, chased me.  A beam of sound rocketed just around the corner of my little hiding place.  I used up some precious energy moving to a better spot and getting some air.  Ivy and Alan were duking it out.  I could hear it from my vantage point.  Ivy was throwing caution to the wind and fallen stone at our technopath, Alan had modified his allotted weapon to something that fired a continuous beam of light.  That flag had to be somewhere deeper in the arena…

I dodged and dodged, keeping Sean busy and even getting close enough to pull at his hair with my little talons.  (What are sisters for?)  Ivy was in a bad way without my help.  I couldn’t keep Sean away from that fight and look for the flag!  I got away from him for just a minute to search and he headed back, running and jumping over fallen rocks, to help Alan.  My danger sense got my attention.  The technopath had managed to push my friend farther into our territory—almost to the edge of the shallow stretch of water.  Ivy already discovered that water wasn’t going to give her plants a boost, it was all salt.  Death to plants.  Alan had her backed up there, and Sean aided him with well-placed screams.  To top it all off, our flag was hovering over that shallow water, a ways back.

The boys were close to securing victory.

That just wouldn’t do.

I soared as fast as my wings would carry me and turned human just as I alit.  (It was a rough landing, but leagues better than I could’ve done months ago.)  Sean didn’t hear me sneaking up on him at all.  But he sure felt when I tickle-attacked him.  He was soon on the ground, crying with laughter, too far gone to get a proper scream out.  That bought us at least thirty seconds.

Ivy got the drop on Alan, snaking a vine around his leg and tripping him up.  She locked eyes with me and sent me a look that said, “Go!”  I didn’t need to be told twice.  I was back in animal form—this time a rabbit, bounding over the hard-packed ground.

I managed to do a rough circle of the boys’ side of the arena, and there was nothing there.  No flag!  As I was looping back around I dodged a stray laser blast, jumping high in the air.

I jumped, feeling the wind against my fur—

\--Changed—

\--And my owl’s wings caught the air.

The owl’s eyes were amazing, even on a bright day.  It’s a stunning predator.  (My talons might have accidentally grabbed Alan’s long hair as I did a fly-by.)  I took to the sky, staying high up, swooping between columns and searching for that holographic flag.

There.  I’d spotted it!  It was on the fore-side of a column, maybe twelve feet off the ground.  I saw the little swallow-tailed thing emitting it.  In just a few seconds I could grab it—

But a sonic blast just barely missed me, skimming over my back and glancing across my right wing.  I did the bird version of stumbling and flapped wildly in midair, trying to regain my rhythm and balance.  My brother was back in action.

I had to flap hard to get just above his next attack.  He takes a second—just a second—to build up that scream in his chest, and he looks right at where he’s going to strike when he’s doing it.  I had just enough time to look across the arena.  Alan was wading across the water towards our flag.

I dodged blast after blast from Sean.  He wasn’t going to go down without a fight.  But in just a few seconds, I’d put a column of rock between myself and my brother, with the flag in my sights.

Tucking my wings in tight, I dove.

Just before hitting the little machine head-on, I extended one wing, changed, and caught it out of midair.

My landing was a bit rough but I stayed upright.  The match was called.  I victoriously held the little buzzing machine over my head, a (temporary) trophy from a battle won.  Ivy cheered and Alan grumbled about getting saltwater on his pants for no reason.

We were chatting happily with one another on the way back.  We played until the sun going down made it hard to see.  Our group made it to the edge of the Tidal Flats before the Harpy stopped us in our tracks.

She stood in front of Ivy and simply said, “Hand it over.”

Ivy feigned innocence for a while, but eventually forked over what she’d stolen—a seed she tucked deep into a pocket.  The Harpy informed her she wouldn’t be doing that again, and stepped out of her way.

That minor transgression was soon forgotten in the afternoon lighting and talk of the games we’d just played.  Our tired, happy little group of Supers went back inside.

 


	7. A6

_“It’s like one in the morning, what’s going o—“_

_“Something’s happened with the pyrokinetic.”_

_“Are you going?  To the mainland?  It’s dangerous!”_

_“If we don’t get to him, someone else will.  It’s now or never.”_

_“…I guess the one we really want, he’ll have to be A7.”_

_“Guess so.  I’ll be back by morning.”_

_“Don’t do anything stupidly heroic!”_

_“When have I ever done that?”_

 

Brandon—

The air was choked with thick, grey smoke.  I opened my mouth to take a big gulp of air and it felt like I was gasping in ash.  The roof above me was creaking and groaning, like it was going to cave in on me any minute.  Insane heat was making the air swirl and I felt like the floor was shifting under my hands and knees.

Fear was freezing my brain.  Just a few minutes ago, Mom and Dad were fighting downstairs.  I couldn’t even think about getting too them now, there was too much…

Too much fire.

The whole house was roaring like some giant animal about to eat me.  Everything was going up in flames, and I was trapped on the landing upstairs, with fire all around me.  Whatever adults had said about stop drop and roll wasn’t gonna help me now.  Nothing could help me.  I was going to die…

Just an hour ago Dad had gotten home from work.  It was such a normal night.  I’d had dinner, done my homework, and escaped upstairs before the yelling started.  It was going to be a bad night.  The angry tense looks on my parents’ faces said that before they even got into it.  Shutting the door to my room hadn’t helped, they were too loud.  The action figures I was banging together didn’t help either.  Then something happened…something happened, and the next thing I knew, there was smoke and heat everywhere and the wallpaper was peeling off the walls…

The smoke was getting thicker every second and I tried to crawl under it.  I had to get lower and lower.  The stairs were only a few feet away, but the room was spinning, and my head was pounding, and the windows were breaking but that wouldn’t help, there was too much smoke…

The stairs.  Even the stairs were on fire.  I was trapped.

I laid down to breathe in the last of my clear air…Slowly, slowly, my vision went dark, and the house stopped roaring, and I floated away….

…then I floated back.

The air was clear.  It took me a minute to figure that out, my chest didn’t feel right.  The air was cool.  There were bruises on my back and my arms, those were old, and when I tried to move they told me I was laying on my back on some kind of cot.  Maybe a table.  There was still a roaring in the air, but it was really quiet, like quiet engines.  I couldn’t see much when I forced open my eyes.  Just a light ceiling.

“…where am I?” I said.  It was hard to talk, and my voice was rusty like nails.

Someone near me spoke.  “Take it easy, kid.  You’re safe now.”

“Am I dead?” I asked.  I didn’t think I’d take my bruises with me when I was dead.  Then again, I thought there’d be wings and clouds and harps and stuff…So far the afterlife bites.  I want a refund, my dad would say.

“No, you’re still alive.  Lucky you.” The person beside me laughed.  I could tell he was a man, but not my dad.  Right, my parents!

“What happened?  The fire….” I tried to say.  Talking still sucked.

“Yes, you started the fire, we know.”

 _I did that?_   I don’t remember…Maybe when I was playing with action figures, there was a light on my finger.  Not a light, a little fire.  I didn’t believe it was really there.

With a ton of effort I lifted my arm up and looked at my finger.  Nothing, just a normal finger.  I let it fall back by my side.

“What was happening right before the fire, Brandon?” that stranger, an EMT I guessed, asked.

 _Listen, I do a good job forgetting stuff like what was happening before the fire,_ I wanted to say.  _You’re not helping me by reminding me_ , I wanted to say.  _Just drive me to the hospital_.  But I couldn’t say that, because my traitor mouth and throat wouldn’t cooperate.  So I just stayed quiet for a while, and couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening before the fire.

“…they were yelling again…” I said after forever.  “This time loud.  They wouldn’t stop.  They kept saying bad things, and my chest hurt.”  I knew people would freak out if I said stuff like that.  It wasn’t that bad, really.  I didn’t like it happening but it wasn’t as bad as people would think.  They were still my parents even if they got mad and fought about stupid things like money.  Mom didn’t mean to say those things…Dad didn’t mean to threaten her…People are just jerks sometimes...  “…it was bad tonight.”  I felt like the room was full of smoke again, it was getting hard to breathe.

Someone took my wrist and brought my right hand close to my face again.  Against the background of the ceiling, there was a little light, just above my pointer finger.  It was bright gold and moved like a match flame.  I couldn’t believe it was there.

It was going to burn me, so I took my wrist away from the gloved hand and shook away the flame.  It went out and stayed out.  My head was swimming again.

“Congratulations, you’re just the pyrokinetic little boy we’ve been looking for.  Welcome to Nomanisan, A6, and welcome to your new life.” The adult said.

I closed my eyes and floated away again.

 


	8. Anger, Fear, and Power

_“How’s the pyrokinetic?  The new boy?”_

_“He’s still in shock.  He’ll take a while to get used to the island, but the other kids are going to like him.”_

_“This one’s going to need a lot of work, Gadget.  He’s going to need a lot of guidance.”_

_“Why do you say that?  What set off that house fire?”_

_“Something no kid should go through…Just get him to test out his powers.  I bet he’s at least a 5.5.”_

_“More like a 6.”_

 

Opal—

There was a new kid on the island one morning.

He was a boy, 9 years old, by the name Brandon.  He had tan skin (after some asking he said his grandparents were Navajo), black hair shorn short and fuzzy, and a face that would be handsome when he grew up.  Even though he was a bit tall for his age, and looked like he played a sport (basketball I guessed), the way he carried himself made him seem so small.  He was scared of everything in his first few days.  When we first met in the hall of the dorms his wide eyes kept darting around our faces, like he didn’t know what to expect from us.  Crystal gently explained what was going on—that he wasn’t in any trouble—and he just kept nodding along.  The poor thing was in some kind of shock.  He reminded me so much of a timid little animal…

Sean was excited to have another boy his age on the island.  Like, uncontrollably excited.  I’d have told him to calm down, but his excitement seemed to catch on with the new boy, at least a little bit.  All the jumping around and excited yelling about how much cool stuff there was got a smile out of him once or twice.  My little brother practically pulled him around on the tour (which was slower then I remembered ours being).

The little swallow-tailed machine came by and added his face to its catalog.  He was introduced to Ms. K.  Finally, the really cool part of our tour came up.

Brandon walked through the wide doors into the Training Room and blinked in the sudden sunlight.  He quickly noticed the wall of glass, but he hesitated to move any closer.  Alan tagged Ivy and raced across the concrete floor.  Sean joined in the chase, and dragged Brandon over to see the view.

The young boy’s eyes got wide as he took in the panorama.  He looked like a destitute young man seeing heaven’s light for the first time—or a blind person seeing the sun.  Watching him, I wondered if we were all as amazed our first time here.

“What is this place?” He asked softly, in a voice rusty from disuse.   “Are we in Hawai’i?”

Crystal laughed.  “No, we’re a bit west of that.”

“West Hawai’i?”

“No.”

“The _end_ of Hawai’i?”

“No.”

“Where are we, then?”

“Home.” Crystal answered.

Brandon couldn’t take his eyes off the sight in front of him.  He just watched in silence forever…

…or at least, until Alan opened his big mouth.

The teenager leaned in close and said, “You know there’s ghosts here, right?”

“What?” Brandon said, tearing his eyes off the scene in front of him.

“Yep!  Ghosts of famous Supers, killed here long ago!” Alan teased—doing spooky fingers at the new kid.

“He’s lying, right?” Brandon turned to Crystal and asked.

I expected that girl, at least, to be the voice of reason.  Instead she sighed and relented, “It’s true.  Famous Supers, a villain, a reporter or two….and a _really_ persistent Jehovah’s Witness.”

Brandon looked from the island outside, to Alan, and back to her, maybe wondering how a Jehovah’s Witness got out here in the middle of the Pacific.  (Obviously, he didn’t know many Witnesses.)  He looked a little scared—he honestly thought there were ghosts out there.  I was about to cut in, but Alan kept right on teasing.

“Hear that?  Ghosts!”  He did spooky fingers one more time, right in Brandon’s face, and took off running across the room.  Sean immediately gave chase.

“You’re lying!  You’re a big liar!” he yelled at the teenager.  Brandon followed him and joined in calling Alan out.

“It’s true!” Alan turned around and walked backwards for a minute, leading the boys in circles.

“You wouldn’t know a ghost if one hit you in the head!” Sean yelled.

“Yeah!” Brandon cried.

“Kerry says he saw a woman in the tram tunnels!”  Alan dodged a swipe from Sean’s little fist.  “One in a supersuit, that disappeared right before their pod hit her!”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” Brandon chanted.

“Hal says he heard a voice in the surveillance room—but when he turned around, no one was there!” Alan said—making sure to keep his pants well out of Brandon’s reach.

“That was ten years ago!” Crystal yelled, from the windows.

Alan’s voice got very serious.  He stopped running and leaned down to Sean and Brandon’s level.  “If you listen really close…sometimes you can hear the voices of the dead through the walls.”

Ivy and I exchanged weary glances.  “I’ll kick his butt for you, babe.” My friend said.

“I’m kicking his butt too, I owe him one…” I said.  I knew he was telling Sean ghost stories from the start.  And he had to pay for that.

The Harpy quickly put a stop to the butt-kicking.

When it came time for Brandon to show off his Superpower…he couldn’t do it.  He said he’d only used it accidentally before, and every time it almost burned him.  The whole training room and most of the huge facility below it were fire-proof, but he was still scared of using it.  I was almost sad for the kid.  Superpowers weren’t supposed to hurt the ones that used them.

The Harpy—on instruction from the earpiece her orders came from—tried everything short of putting the kid in a life-threatening situation to make his powers happen.  They didn’t work at all on the first day.  That short training session left him shut down and a bit shaken.  For a few weeks, all he could manage was a little fire over his finger, held far away from his body.  He had something called pyrokinesis—he could start fires without a match.  I tried to work with him.  I knew his powers were supposed to be defensive, but every time he allowed that flame above his right index finger to get any bigger, it crept down to burn his hand, and he quickly shook it off.

Aside from training sessions, little Brandon really came out of his shell.  He had some lingering anxiety problems, that was for certain.  But Brandon fit right in with our group.  He’d play games with us.  The boy had an adventurous streak, that was easy to see, and while he didn’t trust the guards and the techs, he started to care about us.  He’d even hang around Crystal (whom Ivy had nicknamed Creepy Chrys)—maybe he liked that she was powerless, like him.

I caught them talking the other day.  They’d hung around in the little observation room after training.  I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help it, what they were talking about piqued my curiosity.

“…first one summons the guards, second one summons my mentor straight to me.  Tells him right where I am.” Crystal was telling Brandon, holding out the white band for him to see.  “Messing with the thermostat has the same effect.”

“What does he want with me?” Brandon asked.  Straight to the point.

There was a second of silence, and I guessed Crystal was doing that thinking gesture of hers, where she bites her thumbnail.  After a second she spoke.  “He wants to see you use the gifts you were born with….you frustrate him.  You really do.  You had the power to make your parents _stop_ fighting.  If they knew you were a Super they wouldn’t do it.  You were born with the power to make them stop!  Why didn’t you _use it_?”

Brandon sounded so uncomfortable and caught off guard.  “It—it wouldn’t have helped!” he said.

“You’re a Super, your powers put you above normal humans, they _help_ you—“

“They’re destructive!”

“They’re defensive—”

“Me setting things on fire never would’ve helped!  Violence never makes people change, and it never makes the bad times go away.  My grandpa said that.”

I’d never heard him cut someone off like that.  His words had a weight and an urgency to them that I was in awe of…after whatever he’d been through, he still believed those words.  Even Crystal (who had to win every classroom argument) was quiet for another moment.

“Violence is useful too.” She said.

Brandon’s voice dropped to match her low tone.  “Yeah.  My grandpa said my family had a lot of warriors in it.  He knows.  He says the only things that makes bad times go away and people change is time, and family…”

“…if you need it, there’s a room on the third floor.  It’s the server room behind the main terminus.  Guards never look there.  It’s warm, and if you curl up against the machines, they sound like a heartbeat.  It’s your hiding place now.”

“Thanks...” A companionable silence filled the room.  “…I miss my grandpa.  Even though he thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is.”

Crystal laughed.  “I know what that’s like!”

They went on to talk in soft tones about how lame the people around them are.  I let them be.

Days and days passed since Brandon’s arrival, and he still couldn’t make anything more than a match flame in training.  He started learning some hand-to-hand fighting with us but that was all he could do.  I started to notice the little ways his fear of his powers crept into every-day life.  When he was startled he had to be super careful not to set his hand on fire.  In those moments he had a cautiousness around his movements that spoke of years of small, scary incidents.  It was a bit like Crystal’s reserved adult-speak.  Those things never sat quite right with me—kids should be kids, they shouldn’t grow up too fast.

I worried training was going to force him into using his powers when he wasn’t ready.  The Harpy seemed more and more frustrated with every failure.  She made sure to mention that if he couldn’t produce results, he’d be thrown out in the jungle and hunted by machines.  That would get him to use his powers.  I wondered if she was kidding…until one day, she got so frustrated she snapped, and walked to the doors of the training room, barking orders at the guards to throw the boy outside.  At the center of the room, Brandon was frozen in fear.

I tensed up, ready to step between Brandon and the guards.  A seed in Ivy’s hand had grown to wrap around her arm; she stood in a fighting stance.  But an unexpected, authoritative voice spoke up, and stopped the whole scene cold before anyone could throw a punch.

“Let me try something.” Crystal said.

The Harpy turned on her, furious enough to snap back.  “You don’t have orders to ‘try’ anything.”

“Yes, I do.” Crystal said back.  She sounded so sure.  The Harpy listened to something over her earpiece, and surprisingly, stepped back to the edge of the circle.  She gave the guards the hand signal that meant “stand down”, and watched with a steely, venomous look.

Taking the silence as permission, the white-eyed girl walked slowly (but without any fear) to the middle of the floor.  She found Brandon’s shoulder and stood opposite us.  By the look on Brandon’s face, he knew this wouldn’t work, the blind girl was wasting her energy.  Crystal spoke in a voice so soft I could barely, _barely_ hear.

“When your parents started fighting, how did it make you feel?” she asked.

Brandon glanced back at us, a fearful look on his face.  We weren’t supposed to know.

“Don’t look at them, they’re not here.  Look at me.” The girl put her hand on his cheek, and he turned back to look into her sightless eyes.  She continued.  “How did it make you feel?”

His voice was even softer when he answered, “…Small.  And fragile.”

“What did you want to do?”

“Not…feel like that.”

“Good—use it, use _that_ feeling.  It doesn’t have to be anger and fear.  This fire you have, it’s _power_ , and it’s going to make sure you _never_ feel small and fragile again.  Now take that and push it _out_ and _away_ from you!”

She side-stepped out of the way just as he moved.  The boy took his hands, thrust them straight forward—

—and shot flames ten feet across the training room floor.

At first no one moved, after the fire dissipated.  Brandon stared at the space that was just on fire like he couldn’t believe that just happened.  (Ms. K’s face was priceless.)  Then Crystal laughed—loudly—and shook the surprised boy by the shoulders.

“That sounded AWESOME!” she cried.  “Someone tell me what just happened!”

Brandon laughed, more shocked than anything, staring at his un-burnt hands.

Sean was the first to swarm him, babbling about how cool that was, how cool HE was.  Our motley group of Supers and almost-Supers crowded around him.  Alan offered a victory piggy-back lap and I just had to jump in and tackle the teenager to the ground.  Needless to say, not much serious training got done that day.

He had no trouble in training after that.  He got the hang of his powers pretty quickly, and joined the ranks of the Nomanisan Supers.  That’s what Ivy nicknamed us.  Brandon found a jean jacket of his in his room that night.  It was an old thing, something that survived a bunch a bunch of small fires, with a beaded circle (quartered with red, black, yellow, and white) over the heart.  He was wearing it when we got together with celebration snacks, after all our classes and homework were done.

“A toast,” Alan started, “to self-discovery.”  (We were toasting with pretzel sticks, sprawled around Brandon’s room.)

“To power.” Crystal added.

“To flamethrowing.” Ivy added.

Brandon laughed at that, and we clinked our pretzel sticks together dramatically.  Sean and Brandon started swordfighting with theirs.  Alan carefully toasted with Crystal, and the girl asked, “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“It’s only been a week.” I reminded her.  Let the kid live.

“Ya gotta think of one eventually.” Alan chomped down his pretzel stick and said.

“What, a Superhero name?” Sean asked.  “I thought newspapers came up with those.”

“They do if you don’t think of one first.” Crystal said, stealing snacks from Alan.  “This group’s got an official name around here, by the way, Nomanisan Supers kind of sucks.”

“We don’t even know if we’re going to be Superheroes, we’re just kids.” Brandon pointed out.  “Not all people with powers wear tights and stop robbers.”  _Not to mention we’re criminals_ , I wanted to add.  _And we don’t know if we’re ever getting off this island._

“Most Supers do.  There’s this theory, that people born with the gene are pre-destined to be heroes, like there’s this drive at the back of their minds.” Crystal said.

The whole time she was talking, Alan was doing the ‘blah-blah-blah’ thing with his hand.  Ivy pelted his face with pretzels until he stopped.

“Someone shoulda turned down Tyto’s drive.” Sean said, with his mouth full of food.

“Tyto?” Brandon asked.  I guessed he hadn’t heard that story.  I summed it up for him, while Ivy and Alan threw pretzels around Brandon’s room.  They’d be cleaning that up later.

“Yikes…it’s kinda awful, but I hope he’s really dead.” Brandon said, after the story was over.

“Neato name though.  What’s it mean, Sissy?” Sean asked me.

“Owl.” I answered.

“Your mentor have a Super-name?” Ivy asked the tech duo.

Alan just laid back and said, “Mmmm-hm.”

“You know what it means?”

“Mmm-hm.”

“You can’t tell us?”

“Mmmmm-hm.”

“Great.”

“Alan’s got a name.” Crystal said, and nudged the teenager with her foot.  “Tell ‘em.”

“What if I don’t want to, you traitorous little—“

“Tell us or I’ll jump on your stomach!” Sean yelled.

“Okay, okay!” The teen sighed.  So dramatic.  “It’s Serket.  S-E-R-K-E-T.  From my last name, Siegel…it’s a work in progress.  Happy?”

“It’s neato.” Brandon offered.  Like Circuit.  Original—but I wasn’t calling him that when he wasn’t wearing a mask.  I’d met him as Alan, and he’d always be Alan to me.

“Serket!  How the heck are you supposed to know when you have your name?” Sean asked, taking a break from stabbing his new friend with pretzel sticks.

“Hey, don’t say heck.” I warned him.

Crystal answered his question with surprising wisdom.  “My mentor says you’ll just know it.  It’ll fit better, and feel more like you than your deadname.  You’ll repeat it to yourself, over and over.  It’ll give you this thrill in your chest.  It’ll just seem _right_.”

“And the universe will make more sense, yada yada yada…” Alan said sarcastically.  “God, stop sounding like our boss.”

“ _Mentor_.”  That old argument.

Something bothered me a little bit, about what Crystal was saying.  I finally put my finger on what.  “It sounds more like the myth of a true name to me.” I said softly.  I didn’t mean to trample anyone’s beliefs.

“Some myths are based in fact.” Crystal pointed out.

“You ain’t gotta be so enigmatic.” Ivy said.  When she caught odd looks from Alan and Crystal, she went, “What?  I know big words too.”

“Listen…” I pulled Sean into my lap, where he’d sit and listen to stories when he was younger.  I’d heard bits and pieces of this one from different sources, when I was searching for information on my parents, and it seemed important that I pass it on before everyone got too excited over names.  “Supers have existed for a long time.  Not just people with powers—Superheroes, in masks, with special names and symbols.  It’s always been important for them to balance their civilian identities and their hero ones.”

“The yin-yang, right Sissy?” Sean said.  I smiled at him.  He’d heard this before.

“Right, the yin-yang.  There’s the hero in the civilian and the civilian in the hero.  That keeps the hero grounded, and the civilian reaching for the stars.  You can’t have one without the other.  Bad things happen when you get rid of one or the other.  Keep that in mind, okay?  Don’t get so caught up in this hero business that you lose yourself.”

Brandon absently looked at his hands.  (He’d found so much freedom when he released the hero in him, like a caged bird finally flying in open air.)  Alan just looked annoyed, and Crystal was lost in thought behind those white eyes.  Sean smiled up at me and Ivy…Ivy looked rapt.  As soon as I caught that look on her face she recovered, and became her usual impressed-by-nothing self.

“When did you get so smart?” she said.

“You’re pretty smart too.” I said back.  (And I meant it.)

A bit of that rapt look came back, and she breathed, “Opalescence.”

“What?”

“The Opalescence.  I dunno, it means something fancy, and even though it has your name in it…” Ivy’s voice trailed off.

“Plenty of Superheroes include their civilian name in their hero one.  Ultraviolet, the Dash, Gamma Jack…” Crystal said matter-of-factly.

I traced the syllables with my own mouth, and thought about ‘the Opalesence’.  It seemed nice, but this would take some thought.  If I was going to be a Superhero—and we weren’t just kids sitting around a room throwing pretzels at each other and talking philosophy—then my name would stick with me for life.  That was a big thing.

“What would yours be?” I asked my friend.

“I dunno, I haven’t really thought of one.”

“I want one!” Sean cried.

Brandon threw out two suggestions, Ivy a couple and Alan one.  Sean frowned at them all, until…

“Sidhe.” Crystal said.  Like ‘Sheetha’.  “S-I-D-H-E.  An Irish spirit; your family’s from Ireland.”

Sean looked up at me in excitement.  “It’s spelled different than it’s said, it’s like a Sean-ism!”

We started throwing suggestions to each other as fast as we could think of them.  Okay, maybe a few were really lame.  Maybe some of us made a game out of naming the lamest names possible, trying to get the others to laugh.  (Among these were ‘Leaf Girl’, ‘Scream Machine’, ‘Mama Bear’, ‘Flame Boy’, ‘the Mighty Dolphin’, ‘Pyro’, ‘the Human Blob’—Alan did look like a blob when he just laid around—and Ivy seriously suggested we call Crystal ‘Nick Fury with two eyepatches’.  I elbowed her but Crystal found this hilarious.  Alan inspected a pretzel and tossed out ‘Syndrome’, and Crystal quickly replied ‘Serket’, in the most serious voice I’ve ever heard.)

“Brandon….Brand…Fire-Brand!” Sean gave Brandon.

“Firebrand….” The nine-year-old tried out.  His face lit up.  “It works!”

“Flora and Fauna.” Alan said to Ivy and me.

“That’s a good team-up name.” I said.  (I swear, Crystal muttered, “Ship name…”)  I turned to Ivy and asked, “What about Venus Flytrap, Venus for short?”

“It’s a little girly…” Ivy said.  “I’ll have to think about it.”

Yeah, I thought so.  It wasn’t something like ‘Skullcrusher’, to fit her punk demeanor. _Is Skullcrusher copyrighted…?_

“Not as girly as Tyto!” Sean cried.  (Dunno why he’d make that association.  Tyto did have long blonde hair and a clean-shaven face….My brother is weird.)

Alan raised another pretzel, said “To finding our identities.”  When Ivy went to clink her snack with his, he flung the pretzel at her face, and she returned the favor.  Thankfully that ended quickly, because they were both out of ammo.

Brandon and Sean yelled one another’s Superhero names back and forth as they kept on wrestling.  I leaned my head on Ivy’s shoulder, fingers intertwined with hers (so she couldn’t throw anything else).  Everything was fine.


	9. Murderer

_“Can we go flying this Saturday?  Like when I was younger?”_

_“Absolutely not—you’re too squirmy.”_

_“Can I learn flying by myself, then?”_

_“Nope.  You’re still twelve.”_

_“Can’t go flying, can’t shoot a gun, can’t know what Project Aristeas is all about, can’t have champagne at New Years…can I do ANYTHING around here?”_

_“You can assemble this transponder for me.  Remember how to do that?”_

_“Yeah, I’m not five anymore….”_

_“Sure you aren’t.”_

 

Crystal—

My world isn’t black, that’s a misconception.  It isn’t even white.  It’s more…grey, than anything.  It’s an absence of color.  I lost my sight so young I don’t think I remember what colors are.  If I think really hard, I can almost remember red.  If I think really hard…

It’s happening again.  Those flashes of memories I can’t control, and that feeling like something in my mind is spinning out of control…

If I wait it out, it’ll be gone.  It’s already fading.  These episodes where I feel like I’m going crazy—they’re happening more and more often.  I’m barely able to hide them.  I have to carry around that tape recorder again because the phantom voices are back.  My mentor gave it to me after I cursed at the head guard for calling me a cripple.  No one else heard him say anything.  Everyone heard me.  The phantom voices aren’t picked up by the tape recorder so when I play things back, I can be sure what I’m hearing is real.  It used to be my security and my toy.  I hadn’t needed it since I was young.

Colors, colors…I’ve forgotten what they mean.  Once when I was really little I asked around for someone to explain them to me.  I got bits and pieces from different people.  Blue is like the sound of waves, cool water, and calm before bed.  Green I think was a rainstorm in the jungle outside.  Yellow was something like sunlight, red was heat off the lava and passion and hatred—

Black is listening to your new friends play with their powers and knowing that you can never, ever keep up with them.  It’s knowing some of them think you’re a freak.  That I had to find out myself.

But red…

Another wave of crazy hit and I had to hang on to the edge of my mattress.  What was _happening_ to me?  At least it was late at night, and my mentor was distracted with some new project…it’s like he knows everything that goes on on this island, and after what I discovered via the computer the other night, I knew I had to keep everything I could on the low-down…

“Woman murdered, daughter taken” the headline read.

The article (by some Deirdre Brannan) went on.  My fingers shook as I read it.

“Friday, February 17th, our own Naomi Averry, reporter and columnist, was found dead in her 5th street apartment.  Cause of death is still under investigation, but police correspondent is positive foul play was involved.  “Evidence is pointing to a robbery gone wrong…a few things were stolen from the apartment, most notably Ms. Averry’s two-year-old daughter, Crystal…”.  An anonymous source from inside the investigation has more details.  “You’ve heard they _suspect_ foul play.  What you might not know is the sick unsub moved her body, crossed her arms over her chest…some do that, you know.  To say to the world ‘I was here.’”  The cremation is set for Sunday.”

I….honestly don’t know what I expected.  I thought I’d been given over to my mentor willingly.  When I was young and learning what families are from movies and books, I’d pestered him for any answers on where mine was.  I had a mother, at least.  He said dads ditch all the time, sure, I could accept that—but I had a mother.  The laws of nature said so.  I’d asked about her—and why she wasn’t here—just once.  Just once.  All I got before he got mad at me was “She couldn’t take care of you anymore.”

I’d learned to read between the lines of adult-speak.  “Maybe later” means “no”, “because I said so” means “because I can’t think of a good reason”, “because you’re twelve” means “because you can’t see”, and so on…I never dreamed “she couldn’t take care of you anymore” meant “I killed her.”

Tears (a sign of weakness) sting my eyes.  I didn’t want it to be true.  I still don’t want it to be true.  I grew up here…sure, it was a bit lonely, I almost died about a dozen times when I was younger, and I had to learn my way around my mentor’s dark times, but…there were good times too.  Playing in the workshop, talking for hours about Superheroes…I knew he’d done bad things.  Even the guards whispered about them.  About how he was a hero, once.  The way he made his own villain, and the truth got out before he came to the island.  (Alan and I couldn’t even talk too much about him to the new kids because they’d recognize him, his great fall wasn’t too long ago.)  When I was young I decided I didn’t care.  I hate thinking my mentor, protector and guardian, committed that crime and stole me…I want to go back to the way things were before I stumbled on the damn article.

It finished with a call to the public.  “An Amber Alert has been activated in California and the Municiberg police are doing everything they can to find Crystal D. Averry.  The public is advised that this is a high-priority kidnapping, as the victim is nearly blind.  Be on the lookout for a very young girl with strawberry-blonde hair and faded blue eyes, last seen wearing blue jeans and a white shirt with an embroidered sunflower…”

Alone, in the darkness of my room, I reached up and touched my own hair.  Why was that important, why change it?  I read somewhere that the first thing kidnappers do is change something about the appearance of their victim.  When they don’t want the kid to be found.  Figures.

God, it was happening again.  That crazy feeling—like I was getting foreign thoughts and feelings beamed into my head.

_I think someone messed with my iPod—_

_….y’know what, Hal?  This is why we have ants._

_Crazy how that one guy just walked into the ocean last month, hope it wasn’t whatever weapon the boss tested on h—_

Those voices and that sensory information were back again.  It was way stronger this time.  This was totally new, and God, I didn’t know how to handle it.

I had to stop it.  Turning it inward would…I had to turn it inward.  The wave lasted a long time.  After enough concentrating, I figured out how to do it.  I didn’t stop it—the information I got was memories instead.  If my mind was a tape recorder, it was skipping backwards through old information, at an insane pace.

_“—can assemble this transponder for me.  Remember how to do that?”  Like I’m still a little kid—_

_—I walk into the workshop, still humiliated, throw the concussion blaster somewhere, and take my usual spot, criss-cross on a lab table.  This time my head is in my hands.  I want to hide in my shirt, like when I was little.  “I couldn’t keep up with them.”  Outside, in the game we were all playing, I mean.  My mentor sighs.  He was probably afraid of this…Then he launches into a speech about how one day I’m going to be the best of them and take my place in the sun.  He’s so animated, enthusiastic, and so sure of what he’s saying that I stop hiding and forget why I was mad—_

_“What’s going on?  Where are we?” “No idea.  Someone kidnapped us…”_

_—a short_ _, low laugh from the other side of the room, and I wonder if that’s who my mentor expected me to pick.  “Thy will be done.”_

_“What do you mean?  I’m defective?!”  It’s a very low, very black time, since grey was all I’d ever known I thought…I assumed…everyone was like me, but no, I was lacking a superpower everyone else had, I was lower than the average human…I was so.  Angry.  I had to do something with my hands.  I swept everything off a lab table, ignored the pain and the noise, and retreated to the server room—_

_“Fine, you’re not grounded.  Just don’t do anything like that again.” “I won’t wreck anything else.” “Don’t call yourself defective again.”_

_“His name is Alan Siegel.  Go say hello.”  I’m very young, and still hiding behind my mentor’s cape in front of strangers.  “Is he looking at me?” I ask.  “Yes—now go say hello.”  I stand taller and try not to be afraid before walking forward and offering the scared new boy a handshake.  “I’m called Gadget.  Welcome to Nomanisan.”_

_“—the people loved me while it lasted…before it was all taken away from me.  You’ll see one day.  You and I are going to fix the mess those other Supers made.  It’ll be our turn in the sun….You’re still listening, right?”  Not really, I mostly wanted a snack…_

It wasn’t just sound that came to me this time.  There was the taste of candy smuggled in from the mainland, and the feeling of words under my fingers.  My mind was spinning out of control—is this all a part of growing up?

There was something else in the sensory mix.  Something else…I focused on it, and suddenly,

Sight.

Dizzying, overwhelming, stark information, hitting my brain all at once.  Sharp focus, rich colors, brilliant texture, confusing depth, all at once!  Sight.  After all these years.  The image depicted a girl, a child, with short, white hair and unseeing white eyes.  She was wearing a grey shirt with a single horizontal black stripe, dark jeans, black shoes, a distant expression…

With the image came ideas.  Knowledge.  In an instant I knew what jeans were, how old this child was exactly, that she was brilliant in a way that was strikingly familiar but she’d always be so different from the other kids.  I knew that white wasn’t a normal color for hair—or eyes.  Then, it was like the image changed.  The child had blue eyes and hair that fiery color-familiar, but I didn’t know where I’d remembered them from.  I knew it was written into her DNA, as was the power she’d get and the heights she’d rise to—

And, in the back of my mind, a memory burned—a lady, smiling wryly, as if at some shared joke.  An image I could not get out of my mind.  I had a sense that I was sick of thinking of all of that, too.  Sick and tired of reliving painful memories.  If I could just get this plan to _work_ ….

Then, in an instant, the flow of images and ideas stopped dead.

That…wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced.  It scared me.  In the silent minutes after the wave I tried to make sense of the images.  Was that girl…me?  Did I really stand like that?  Oh, God, I’ve got to work on my posture.

I tried to reconcile that image of what I was supposed to look like with the raised relief picture of the smiling woman and child from the article.  Both faces seemed familiar.  Was I really her?  The missing girl?  Did I have a mother, a life, before Nomanisan?  Was it really cruelly taken away?  I didn’t want to believe it.  So I wouldn’t believe it!

Another wave started.  I could feel it, rising in the back of my mind.  It was going to be stronger and bigger than the last.  I could tell.

Have to focus it inward, so no one will know….just have to focus it inward….

 _Red_ ….

_The sound of music drifts through the air, and I move (unsure and slow) to go find it.  I know where it’s coming from.  Light floods in from the window and the whole main room is gold, like the room smells like the flower sitting on the sill.  Busy noises drift in from outside.  It smells like comfort in a primal way…Home…_

_Someone’s slender fingers press black and white keys.  A rising melody, something mysterious and almost foreboding…_

This didn’t feel like a memory.  Memories can be recalled, and stopped.  This just played out like a movie and I couldn’t find the button to stop it.  The recalling swept me up in a wave of emotion and after a while…I forgot it wasn’t really happening…

_The music kept on, and even though I couldn’t see the woman well anymore, I knew she was lost in it.  I found the bench and crawled up next to her.  I felt her warmth.  The notes rose to a crescendo and I pressed a high-note key…_

_The woman stops and looks at me with a wry smile.  She spoke in an honest, clever voice that was so familiar I knew it better than my own.  I remembered her talking me to sleep…_

_“Didn’t like that one?  Sorry, I’m still learning.  You’re right, Crystal, we should change it up.” My mother says._

_A rustle of pages and another tune starts.  This one is happier.  Jumpier.  I remembered every note.  I hop down from the bench (it’s a long way) and feel the old carpet under my feet.  My mother laughs as I start to dance…The song didn’t last that long…_

_Because I trip over the corner of the carpet that stuck up.  The piano stops and mother picks me up, crooning at me in a soft voice.  I’m just upset the music is gone.  Suddenly there is a sound at the door.  Mommy walks away._

_The memory skipped.  Suddenly I’m being put down in another room, my mom no longer gentle and soft-voiced.  I feel the tension in her—the fear—and hear it as she talks into something._

_“Didi?  It’s me, something’s wrong, he’s not dead, he’s here—I KNOW what we saw on the news!”_

_She starts to leave me with a false-calm “Stay here, sweetie.  I just need to get him talking.”  I am afraid._

_I can hear noises at the door again, more insistent.  Mommy starts moving things and gathering things.  I just stand by the door, frozen.  She moves past me into the main room, shuts me behind a door, and yells at someone trying to get in._

_“Don’t lie to me, I know what you did!  I should have known when—“_

_I don’t hear any more of the yelling, I cover my ears.  It’s too much for someone so small.  Too much._

_There is more yelling from outside the apartment.  I can’t understand it, I uncover my ears to hear my mother moving around.  I’d never heard her so…scared?  Frantic?  Angry?  Then there is—_

_A crack, and then silence.  That is scarier than the yelling.  So much scarier._

_I can’t take it anymore, I hit the door in front of me as hard as I can with small hands.  It swings open.  There’s silence everywhere, like the whole apartment, and the world outside is motionless in anticipation.  I’m too young to know why but something is wrong.  That sense at the back of my new mind was telling me something was very, very wrong.  With failing eyes I look out and see a figure on the floor.  Motionless.  That sense at the back of my mind told me that my mother’s form was there on the carpet…but she wasn’t there anymore.  On small legs I walk over to her, brush dark hair away from the familiar face, and feel something odd.  I bring my hand close to my own face and squint._

_Red._

_Something pulls me away from the figure on the floor.  Hands clean the red off mine.  A voice (not so gentle, but trying to be) calms me, and a stranger takes me away from the crime, from the music and my mother…_

The memory ended.  I ended it.

I was so young…too young to know what was happening to me, or why…

_Murderer…_

Too young to understand the stranger—who called himself my mentor, and me his ward—killed my mother.

_Murderer…_

All the things I’d read about the other night, all those crimes immortalized in history texts…

_Murderer…_

And the children stolen, called weapons, to be used as pawns in this greater vendetta against the Supers who’d wronged him…

_Murderer…_

Hurt overtook me, like a wave all its own.  Betrayal.  I was so young.  He had no right.  He used me.  Kept the truth from me.  I went along with everything he said.

_Murderer…_

I’d been blind.  But not anymore.  He didn’t have the right to use us.  To take us away from what little family we had.  (At that thought I felt that loss I’d been carrying for years suddenly sharpen, cutting deep like a knife.  That crime had always been between me and my protector, I’d realized in a distant way, something that prevented our bond from growing too close.  Naomi Averry had been here on the island in some form, all these years.)  My mother was dead.  But it wasn’t too late for the other kids.

Hot tears fell onto the canvas of my shoes.  I didn’t care.  Through the overwhelming doubt and fear and loneliness I felt, I dug deep and found the one thing I could survive.  Raw, unbridled anger boiled up from somewhere deep in my mind.  It pushed everything else out.  Rage.  Pure, directionless fury.

…no, my rage has a direction.

Syndrome.

_Murderer._


	10. Interrogated

_“The pyrokinetic’s settled in—one of the family.”_

_“I’m tellin ya, Gadget, when he’s a fully realized Super, he’s going to be better than Frozone.  Better than WhiteStar, even—“_

_“More powerful.”_

_“Exactly.”  
“Power is relative.”_

 

Ivy—

We’d gotten settled into our routines.  It really, really hurts to admit, but Nomanisan….wasn’t that bad.  Brandon improved his flamethrowing.  Training was _fun_.  It was easy to forget the guards called us ‘assets’ and ‘weapons’.  Like, whatever floats your potato, Dave.  Whatever. 

After our one-and-a-half hours of gym time (which kicked my butt), Opal and I found ourselves with free time and nada to do with it.  Lights out was an hour away.  As soon as we got to the dorms, Crystal retreated to her room, and I decided to just follow.  I slipped in the door behind her and Opal gave me a “what to heck?” look.

“Hey, can I come in?” I asked.

“You’re already inside.” Crystal pointed out.

“Yeah, thanks.  Is there a light switch in here?” I asked, already looking for one.

The enigma sitting on the bed sighed.  “Two steps to your left, probably a foot below shoulder height.”

After some groping I found it, and voila, us sighted people could see the room.  It was kept really neat.  Like, really neat.  But lived in.  I didn’t expect posters on the walls.  (They looked blank, and were mostly arms’ length from the bed.)  Or books on a shelf.  That was interesting.  I moved over there and inspected the shelf while Opal joined me inside and the door slid shut.

“So, is there anything to do for fun around here?” Opal started lightly.

“Hmm…we could go sock-sliding in the hangar.  Alan pranks the research and development guys once in a while, but they’ll be kept under lock and key…”

The bookcase was topped with mechanical toys—in the shapes of little metal animals and a sphere thing with legs.  I think they’d actually move, but I couldn’t find any wind-up key.  Little rings made from soldering wire by a kid’s hands were all set in a line.  On the shelf itself were thick books with blank spines…no, not blank.  I ran my thumb up one and felt dots all up the side.

“These books—what’s this?” I asked.

“Braille?” Opal said.

“Yeah—we have a printer on the island.” Crystal said.  “That top row is…two mythology books, the Enigma Code, the Golden Age of Heroes, and a couple comics.  Hey, if you’re going to pick stuff up, please put it back where you found it.”

I said sure, but didn’t really plan on it.  I still didn’t trust the kid.  There was something evil in the way her brow furrowed when she was ticked off, that grin, and how geekily excited she got when we were showing off our powers on the training room floor.  (I guess in hindsight it’d be easy to get worked up about that stuff, especially when you didn’t have powers—or even sight—of your own.)  Running my finger up and down a book, I tried to read it, but couldn’t.  That I gave up on.

“How long have you been here?” Opal asked quietly.  She took a seat on the floor.

“Since I was two, I think.” Crystal answered.  “A long time.  How did you get your name?”

I looked over a shelf of cassette tapes—those, at least, were labelled in letters as well as Braille.  “Everseer-NSA archives 1.12.4”, “Macroburst-M.R., NSA Archives, 3.44.1”, “N. Averry, S. Paladino Interview”, “N. Averry, Edna Mode Interview”, yada yada yada.  Only a few names I recognized.  I guess this is what she meant by hearing the voices of dead Supers.  Mystery, killed.

“…If I remember right, my parents named me after I’d gone through the transition state.  A lot of Super parents do that.  I was named after that flash of light that happens when I’m shapeshifting.” Opal said, tearing my attention away from the bookcase.  “What about yours?”

“My mom named me.  I think it was a family name—not like I can _ask_.  I wasn’t told anything about my life before Nomanisan.  Am I being interrogated here?”

“No, just curious—“ my friend started.

I sat down by Opal, toy robot thing in hand, and gave her a silent ‘go with it’ gesture.  “We _could_ play Interrogated though.”

Crystal looked intrigued.  “Interrogated?”

“Yeah, it’s this thing we play on the mainland.  ‘Interrogated’ with a capital I.  One or two people ask someone questions, and they have to answer, or…well…they haven’t found the last guy that lied.  The people asking the question are the Interrogators, the one getting asked is the Interrogated.  Rules are the questions have to be direct and no lying by omission either.  Wanna play?”

The weird white-haired kid thought about this for a while.  I was sure she wasn’t gonna go for it.  Then she slipped off the bed to sit on the floor facing us, and steepled her fingers, with that evil smile on her face again.

“But we’re not on the mainland, are we?” she said.  “We can change the rules a little bit.  No interrogated and interrogators—you ask me a question, and I ask you one back.  It’ll be fun.”

Opal nudged me in the ribs, mouthed “play fair!”, and blurted out, “We’ll do it.”  She really didn’t know what I was trying to do—and I should have nudged her back.

“All right.” Crystal leaned back. “You go first.”

I started before Opal could open her mouth again.  “You said you can’t lie—was _that_ a lie?  Explain what you meant.” I said, deathly serious.

The Interrogated thought for another moment before answering.  “I know you take for granted that most of human interaction is body language.  I can’t read that—I can’t see people’s faces, just hear their voices, so I never learned how to successfully _lie_.  The best I can do is believe what I’m saying.  People rarely worry about their vocal tells so I usually know when they’re lying.  You suck at it.  My question—your name isn’t really Ivy, is it?”

What the hell?!  No one was supposed to know!  Opal was staring at me and I knew I had to cough up the truth.

“…it’s Deborah.” I admitted.  Even the word was gross in my mouth.  Deborah, Deborah, Deborah.  Gross.  I couldn’t even meet my friend’s eyes, I just stared down at that toy.  My darkest secret, revealed.  “My parents didn’t know they were having a Super kid.  Listen, don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Opal was laughing, the traitor.  “Deborah!” she cried.

“Yeah, real funny.”  I had half a mind to throw my shoe at her again.

“Debbie!”

“Opal, your turn.” Crystal reminded her.

“Okay, okay—whew!  Okay….and, um, don’t take this the wrong way, you don’t have to answer or anything, I was just curious…”  (I motioned for Opal to get on with it—she could go on all day like that.)  “…how long have you been blind?”

Crystal answered immediately, and soberly, not even bothered.  “Totally without sight?  Since I was maybe three….aggressive early-childhood glaucoma.  Incurable.  Two cornea transplants and an optical implant later, still nothing.”

“Can you see your dreams?” I blurted out.

Opal elbowed me, hard, making me hiss.  Crystal’s only reaction was a twitch at the corner of her mouth—a smile, maybe, or a grimace.

“No—I dream in other senses. Besides, I’m a professional insomniac.  My mentor and I both.”

“Why?” I squeaked, totally forgetting our made-up rules.

“No orange/blue light cues for me.  He’s usually working on some project.  That was three questions—I’ll forget one because you sound like you’re in pain.  I get to ask two.”

Evil.  Evil, evil, evil little child.  “No fair.” I protested.

“Hey, I’m twelve, not a Super, and I can’t see.  I’ll take power where I can get it.  And you’re rude.”

Opal gave me a “take that” look.  I gave her a light shove.

“You.” Crystal started, facing my friend.  “Your parents, they were killed just before the ban on Superheroes was lifted.  Ten years ago.  But Sean’s only 7…how is that possible?”

I saw the blood drain out of Opal’s face.  She mouthed “How did you…?” before looking down at her hands.  She couldn’t look up at either of us, just talked down.  Opal was in the foster system—I’d almost forgotten.

“We’re not really…brother and sister.  You must have guessed that.” Her voice had dropped to just above a whisper.  “My parents were Supers, his just gave him up when he went through the transition state.  They couldn’t handle their baby suddenly crawling up walls and having super strength and stuff.  We were in a home together and I was the only one that could calm him down.  Ever since then I wouldn’t go to a home without him.  He thinks my parents are his parents—and no one can tell him anything else, got it?”

I took her hand and said, “Got it.”

“Why did you stay with him?” Crystal asked, like she genuinely couldn’t fathom why.  “You probably could have gotten adopted without him.”

“Because you stick with the ones that stuck with you.” Opal said without hesitation.   “We need each other.  Ohana, and stuff.”

“No man is an island.” Crystal agreed, leaning back.

“My question.  Why is your hair that color?”  Honestly that had been bothering me FOREVER.

“What color?  White?” She reached up to touch it.  “I think I’ve been doing myself it as long as I was able to…don’t know why I was taught.  To make me less recognizable, I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter….there was another lady here, some PA that’s now an NSA agent, that did the same thing.  What?  Did you think some people are just born with white hair?”

“That’s two questions.” I said triumphantly.

“No, it was rhetorical.”

“Ladies…” said Opal, sounding like a true mom.

(For the record, I _didn’t_ think some people are just born with white hair.)

“My turn…on the mainland, the lines between right and wrong are drawn by elected officials, and change constantly.  Right?”

Opal hesitated to answer.  “Uh…kind of.  I mean there are some things that are wrong no matter what.  Stealing, wrong.  Tax fraud, wrong.  Murder, wrong.”

Crystal deliberated over this for a moment.  I wondered about the wheels turning in that kid’s head.

“Your turn.”

“Okay…what kind of punishments can they actually give us?” Opal asked.

“That depends on what you do.  I guess first you’d get your books and iPods taken away.  Then I think you’d get pulled from missions, or get your tech and suits taken away.  Pull a stunt like Alan did and I guess you’d be put in a containment unit—“

That last thing went right over my head because, _tech_.  _Suits.  Missions._

“What missions and stuff?  You’re telling us we’re gonna be superheroes or something?”  Rules be damned.

Crystal seemed to listen for intruders in the hallway, then lowered her voice.  “That’s the master plan.  You’re going to be the new generation of heroes, a Syndicate for global peace.  You’re going to change the world—under the guidance of my mentor, of course.”

Opal and I looked at each other.  Where I was starting to get a little thrilled, she looked carefully intrigued.

I turned back to that kid enigma and asked, “Tech like Hypershock and Dynaguy had?  What do we need tech for?  We’ve got powers.”

“You’ve also got weaknesses, and there’ll be times you can’t use your powers.  Technology is the great equalizer, you know.  And that was like, three questions.  At least.”

She does this on purpose.

“New rule, two questions maximum.” I said.

“You can’t just make up rules.”

“We’re not on the mainland.  I can do whatever I want.”

“ _Ladies_ …” Opal said with a sigh.

“…fine.  Two questions.”  Crystal seemed to retreat into her own head for the longest time yet.  I was going to speak up when she said in a quiet voice, “…what does home mean to you?”

That one was easy.  Home was the nature preserve I spent most of my life running around.  Home was the well-used ranger stations and my dad’s SAR friends.

“It’s…safety.” Opal started.  “Safety, and people you need, and people who need you.  A resting place.  And somewhere to fall back to.”

“Someplace you can be yourself.  Not just your citizen self or your super self.” I added…even though I’d never really known that.  My dad didn’t like me using my power—it scared him, he wouldn’t even talk about it.  And I never wanted my mom to find out…

“Ohana, and stuff.” Crystal echoed.  “…yeah…”

I had to wonder…where was her home?

“My question—do you want to go back?” She asked suddenly.  “If it turns out this place isn’t all it’s made out to be.  If it’s all an illusion here.”

That one did catch me by surprise.  What did she mean, not all it’s made out to be?  It’s all transparent here.  Everything’s fine!

“Maybe…if there’s some suspicious goings-ons here.  But we’re just kids.  Not like we could escape by ourselves.” I said, putting the toy on the ground.  Crystal just thought.

“My question—“ Opal started. “Why do some of the guards seem like they hate us?”

Crystal answered like this was obvious.  “Supers killed a bunch of their friends ten years ago.  Ironic.  They still kind of work for one.  My question…..”  And here she hesitated, even stopped that thinking gesture, taking her hand away from her mouth and holding it—a fist—in her lap.  “…is it normal to-….to want-…..is a certain _disregard_ for life…considered normal?”

Opal and I shared another glance.  A worried one, this time.

“No…no, not even in Supers.” My friend answered quietly.

“Especially not in Supers.  Anyone who thinks that way is messed up.” I had to add.

“…Last question of the night.” Crystal said with sudden intensity.  “If you had to let someone kill—not you, but someone else, while you stand by complacently, WITHOUT interfering—if you had to let someone murder, to get yourself and your family off this island, could you?”

Silence filled the room.  No, I couldn’t even think about that question, no—what was she even…?  Whatever weird game she was playing, it wasn’t funny…

A sudden noise—the door sliding open—cut off all thoughts.  Hallway light flooded in and lit up the three of us.  It was Alan that poked his head in.

“The guards got the Fifa game up on the huge screen.  Bedtime’s cancelled.  You wanna watch?” he said, like bouncing with excitement.

“The one in Containment 13?” Crystal asked—like nothing just happened.

“Yep!”  Brandon and Sean were dancing around in the hallway behind him—Sean yelling “FIFA!” and Brandon making annoying trumpet noises with his mouth.

“Sure.”  That enigma got up and straightened her shirt.  The last words she spoke to us that night were when she turned back and oh-so-casually said, “You don’t have to answer that.  Just…think about it.”

And she was gone.  Of course we scrambled after her (I carefully put the toy robot back).  Brandon and Sean swept us up in Fifa Madness and didn’t let us get a word in edgewise.  After all the crazy talk, I have to admit, a soccer game on the world’s biggest screen was a good break.  Watching mature all-knowing men (guards, techs, and teenage technopaths alike) lose their minds was fun.  Even though my team lost. 


	11. Hide and Seek

_“You’ve been distant lately.”_

_“Have I?”_

_“We need to have a talk.  Soon.  Are you listening to me?”_

 

Opal—

Ivy was right, there wasn’t much to do for fun around the island.  But one free afternoon, we invented something to do—hide n’ seek.

“You know the rules.” Alan started in his official Oldest Kid voice.  “Powers are allowed, D wing only, keep the hiding places REASONABLE, and when someone finds you, you can fight them to get away.  First one to get caught steals sandwiches from the kitchen.  All understood?”

The five of us in a circle agreed.  Don’t know why Alan had to state the rules every time a new round started—maybe because Sean and Brandon got all of us in trouble when they tried to hide in the ceiling.  Alan’s fault for not being specific, really.  “Reasonable” is a word with a lot of grey area.

“Ready?” Alan said.

We all put our hands in the circle.

“Set…”

Ivy and exchanged mischievous glances and she indicated the right corridor with her eyes—we were the Dynamic Duo in this game.  And we were in it to win it.

“Go!”  Alan turned to the wall and started counting.

Suddenly the hallway burst into motion.  Kids were running everywhere, pushing, snickering, and running.  Ivy and I dashed down our corridor and didn’t stop until we couldn’t hear Alan anymore.  D wing was really like a maze, of old tech offices and conference rooms.  Perfect for shenanigans.

Guards yelled at us when we darted past.  (We did knock coffee out of that guy’s hands, so maybe that was justified.)  I yelled a quick “Sorry!” back at them.  Ivy laughed and grabbed my hand.  We ran through endless side hallways, until—

“Hey!” Sean yelled as we crashed into Brandon and him.  (My ears would be ringing for a while after that outburst.)

“You guys can’t hide with us!” Brandon, Mister That-ceiling-tile-looks-good, shouted at Ivy and me.

“Weren’t trying to, flame boy!” Ivy retorted.  (She needs to work on the nicknames.)

“Alan’s probably done counting—we have to move!  We’ll go this way, you go that way!”  I grabbed Ivy’s hand.

“Got it!”  Brandon turned the corner—

And screamed.

I nearly jumped out of my skin—just around that corner was Crystal, and in response to Brandon’s shock, she just laughed.  A very _evil_ sort of laugh.

Brandon noticed his fingertip was on fire and quickly shook it.  “Not fair!” he protested.

“Watch out next time!” she said.  “One floor down, there’s an entrance an abandoned tram system—the door doesn’t close properly.  If you want a really good hiding place, go there!"

Then she was gone, down that shadowy hallway.  I shot Ivy a “what the hell?” look, because weren’t the lower levels off-limits for this game?

“I call it!” yelled Brandon, taking off in some direction.

“NO!  Get back here, you’re gonna get your butt kicked!” Sean cried, racing after him.

“By who?!”

“ME!”

Ivy and I burst out laughing, then kept running.  When we’d gone a long way (and almost knocked over a few techs), I picked a door and shimmied under it as a moth.

An empty conference room.  I have great door-picking skills.  I flashed back into my human body and unlocked the door for Ivy.

“Get in, get in!  We’re gonna get caught!” I hissed at her, trying not to giggle.

“Right-o!” she said casually.  As soon as the door was shut, I dove under the long table, keeping the lights off for added security.  Not like that would protect against Sean’s echolocation, but every little bit counts, right?

We hid in silence for a few minutes.  (Silence counts even if you snicker occasionally.)  We heard something odd, like a short alarm, and an automated voice saying “Code 9.  Code 9.  All personnel report to stations.”  Then—the lights turned on.

_Crap._

Ivy looked at me, hand clapped over her mouth.  I tried to communicate “We’re dead” with my eyes.

Two people—an old married couple, apparently—stepped into the room.  I saw their shoes—not guards.  Part of the tech team.  They sounded like they were in a hurry.

“I can’t believe you lost it again.  Now some asset used it to get out—“ the first voice said.

“No, I just left it in here, I swear!”

“Lee, if it was _your_ badge…”

“I know, upper management will have my head.  But it’s here somewhere.”

Ivy rolled her eyes at them while I was in panic mode.  We definitely weren’t supposed to be here.  We were probably the Code 9.

“This is just like that time with the blueprints…” Voice #1 grumbled as they started to search the room.

Ivy gestured wildly to my foot.  I looked down and yep, a security badge was under my shoe.  I grabbed it.  One of the techs started getting closer and closer to our hiding spot.  We geared up to run for it.

“It’s probably under the table.” Voice #2 said.  Keeping one hand firmly over my mouth, I placed (or tossed) the badge onto a chair near him, and moved away.

Voice #2 pulled out the chair.  “Hey, wait, here it is.  How’d it get in the chair….?”

“I don’t care.  Let’s just go.”

“Hope they have more luck finding that asset…”

“Not this again.”

“Come on, you act like you don’t care, but I know you do.  There’s all sorts of stuff out in the jungle a little kid could get killed by—cliffs, deep rivers, wild animals, pitfalls, thermal vents…See?  You looked away!”

“What are you, my therapist?  Let’s just get out of here and report.  You get me in enough trouble as it is.”

We held our breaths as they turned off the lights and walked out the door.  Panic was rising in my head the whole time, like alarm bells.

Finally—when the techs had been gone long enough—we let out the breaths we’d been holding and turned to each other.

“Someone’s escaped!” Ivy said.

“We have to go.  We have to find them, Ivy, it can’t be Sean!”  I took off without hearing her reply.

 _Sean can’t be out there_ , I couldn’t stop thinking as I went wolf.  _He’s just seven.  He shouldn’t have even tried.  Something one of us said probably gave him ideas.  I’m responsible for him.  He can’t be out there._

There were TONS of scents all around, it was almost overwhelming.  Ivy just kept pace with me.  Teams of guards were running all over the place but with my senses we barely—BARELY—avoided being spotted.  It was twelve frustrating, agonizing minutes before I could get a lock on a familiar scent.  That trail I followed like there was no tomorrow.

It led me right to—or right _into_ —Alan.

“Hey!” he cried when my head hit his leg.  “What gives?!”

“Alan, thank God.” Ivy said.  I turned human again and stumbled sideways a few steps—his leg hurt my head, darn it!

“You know, I think we need to go over the basic rules of hide and seek…” Alan said.

“You heard about the code 9?” Ivy asked.

“Yeah, I was just looking for—“

I held my head and cut him off.  “Where’s Sean?”  (My head was going to hurt tomorrow.)

“He was with me a just second ago, helping me seek!”

“All right, split up!” Ivy directed.

We did, but kept each other in yelling range.  It probably helped that our captors were busy elsewhere.

_If Sean’s out in the jungle…._

I didn’t want to think about that.

_Cliffs, deep rivers, wild animals, pitfalls, thermal vents…and those guards were armed._

First door?  Nothing.  Second door?  Nothing.  Closet?  Nothing.  Armory?  Locked.  Storage room?  Someone was crouched behind boxes.

“Found you!” I said.

Ten year old Brandon jumped out and struck a karate pose—“Not if I defeat you!”

“Game’s over!” I commanded.  “Where’s Sean?”

“I dunno, he got himself caught!” Brandon said.

“Stick with me, we gotta find everyone else.”

“Aww, okay…”

I brought him to where I saw Alan searching and caught the teen when he walked out of a room.  Ivy came jogging up to us, saying she had no luck.  No one had found Sean.

I was about to go into full Panic Mom Mode.

“Maybe we should just ask the guards.” Ivy suggested.

“No, do you want us to get in trouble?  We’re not supposed to be out here.” Alan countered.  “We’ve still got two missing, we should keep looking—“

“Aren’t there cameras everywhere?  Can’t you just hack into them and find him?” I demanded.

“My powers don’t work that way—“

“Hey, what’s all the yelling about?” a small voice said.  It was Sean—at the end of the hallway, looking confused.  All my anxiety melted away.

“Thank _God_ , you scared me!” I chided.  Alan and Brandon were silent.

“…But that means…” Ivy started.

We all looked around our little group, and one by one realized who wasn’t there.

The Code 9 was Crystal.


	12. The Junk Gene

Ivy—

We tried to make it back to our rooms before the guards caught up with us again, but no go.  A whole squad of ‘em stopped us right when we’d reached the dorms.  I made our apologies and everything—yeah, sorry we eluded you bozos when you were supposed to be watching us, yet again—but they didn’t listen to a word I said.

Two guards grabbed Alan and roughly pulled him away from us.  Without a word one of ‘em locked his wrists together in some sort of thick handcuffs that hummed with electricity.

“Hey, you don’t need to—“ he protested.

But they didn’t listen.  Under orders, it sounded like.  Sean yelled “Al!” as they dragged him away.  No word on when he’d be back.  Nada.  The rest of us prisoners were herded into our rooms and assured (by Dave, at least) that the doors outside the dorms would be locked tight tonight.  Opal and I stayed in heavy silence in our room.  The only words spoken were,

“We could see if we could join the search.”, whispered by my roommate.

“Like they’d let us outside too.” I murmured back.

One hour passed.  Two hours.  Two and a half.  Then we finally heard someone being dragged back to the boys’ dorm.  As soon as the coast was clear, we snuck out.  Someone didn’t lock the door between the boys’ and girls’ dorms—probably didn’t care if we held a meeting.  Their loss.

We found Alan chilling on the hallway carpet with Brandon and Sean, looking way frazzled and like he wasn’t going to sleep tonight, but reassuring the other boys everything was alright.

I made sure no guards were in earshot before asking “What was that all about?” and sitting down across from him.  (Opal daintily joined me.)

Alan sighed.  “Since that dumb kid disappeared, they haven’t seen her on any cameras.  Probes haven’t picked up anything either.  They thought I was helping her escape.  Like there’s anywhere to go.”  The teenager closed his eyes.  “Haven’t seen him this ticked off since I tried to kill him.”

“Your boss.” Opal clarified.

“Yeah.  I took over the cameras and stuff, spent _forever_ looking.  Still nothing.”

“So what should we do?” Brandon asked.

“We don’t do anything.  We go to bed.”  Alan, the quitter, stood up.  “They’ll find something by morning.  Don’t worry about it.”

“What were those cuffs they put on you?” I asked.

“Those?  They kind of cancel out my power.  Electromagnetic field stuff.  Science.  You wouldn’t understand.  But they’ve got tech that cancels out all your powers—even a muzzle for Sean.”

“Alan, did you help make those?” Opal asked softly. (I was still hung up on the “science—you wouldn’t understand” thing.  I understand my fist on his face, let’s see his science stop THAT.)

“I told you, I don’t invent the tech—“

“ _Did you_?”

“…let’s just go to bed.  All of us.”

He retreated to his room.  And that ended that.  He retreated to his room and shut the door.  After Sean and Brandon were in their beds, we did the same.

Maybe 10 hours passed with me drifting in and out of a restless sleep.  Finally I couldn’t take it anymore—the suspense was killing me.

“Opal?” I said into the silence.  “O Captain, My Captain?”

“Yeah?” came the soft reply.  Sounded like she hadn’t been asleep either.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

“Not really.  Unless you’re thinking about breakfast.  Then I’m thinking what you’re thinking.”

“No, no….we should play detective again.”

I heard Opal sit up.  “Ivy, last time we did that…”

“I know, I know, you were a bug and we almost got caught, but we DIDN’T.” I pointed out.  I was sitting up too.

“Where would we even look?”  Opal said.  She seemed to think, and muttered to herself, “The server room on the third floor…no, she went outside…”

I went on.  “You heard what she said.  There’s a door under D wing that doesn’t close properly.  Sounded like a clue to me.”

Opal sighed and flopped back down in bed.  “We don’t even know what this mess is all _about_ …”

“Yeah, but we’re gonna find out.”  There’d be no arguing with me.  I set my feet on the floor and rifled around for my shoes.  “Let’s go.”

Two minutes later we were out running along winding hallways.  Either most of the guards were AFK or our stealth skills were too good—or both—because we didn’t even have a close call.  (Opal would say that’s because we’re learning.  I’d say that’s because we’re awesome.)  The old tram system wasn’t too hard to find.  The area was deserted, probably had been for years, and the door was the only one of its kind that would budge.

I should’ve said something cool when we found it, like “Let’s see what’s behind door number one!”, but I didn’t think of that until later.

Opal and I were quick.  That door led to a sort of small, empty chamber, and the door beyond that (harder to open) led to—

Outdoors.  Blessed wilderness.  I could smell it in the air—like heaven after that filtered stuff we’d been breathing.  Tropical forest.  Plants as far as the eye could see.  _My element_.

“We should hurry.”  Opal was in wolf form before her first bounding step.  I quickly cut in front of her.

“Hey, hey, your nose may be great, but I’ve got the Search-and-Rescue experience.  I’ll lead.” I said.  And she let me.

We stuck near the tracks—the island was HUGE, like bigger than it looked from any window, and we wouldn’t be of any use if we got lost ourselves.  That was the first thing my dad taught me.  The second was people will almost always go downhill—to water.  (The third was be careful around parents of missing children, they could be the scariest people.)  It really helps the SAR effort when you can ask the trees for directions.

Almost thirty minutes of searching and all I was getting was old tracks.  The plants couldn’t tell me anything.  (Not surprising, they like vague answers.  All they’d talk about was guards wearing electronics and the weather lately.)  I started to wonder what us two dumb kids were even DOING out here—other than getting bug bitten…There was like, a two percent chance we’d find anything, if an island full of guards and tech couldn’t find any trace of—

“Ivy, over there!” Opal whispered.

I turned my head, and the first thing I caught sight of was white hair.

“Took you long enough!” Crystal said, stepping out of the trees.

In a second, Opal was back in human form and fawning over the girl.  Crystal tried to wave her off but O was _determined_ , babbling, straightening her hair and looking over scratches she’d gotten.  I would have been right there with my friend, but I was…still a little ticked off that she’d scared us half to death ten hours ago.  And I noticed the girl’s eyes weren’t white anymore.

What’s more was—she was moving smoothly over uneven terrain, not even looking where she was going.  Confidently.  Holding herself straighter.  That was definitely new.

“—and where have you _been_?  _What_ ’s going _on_?” Opal ended her tirade with.

“I’ve been trying to send you signals for hours!  I needed to talk to you—this is the only place we can talk safely now.” Crystal started.  Opal pulled a leaf out of her wild hair and she added, in this exhilarated voice, “Yeah, I’ve been running.”

“You can see…” I said, quietly.

That cocky smile she’d had since she snuck up on us faded a bit.  “…no, I can’t.  That just happens when I’m connected with you.  Look.”

In the barely-morning light I watched her eyes fade from hazel, to Opal’s green, to my brown, to her own white, and back to a hazel.

“…I guess I have a lot of explaining to do.” She said.

Opal stepped back with me, awestruck and not saying a word.

“You’re wondering how I disappeared.  I—I noticed it a week ago, when I started getting thoughts in my head that weren’t mine.  I thought I was going crazy—like break out the tin foil hats!”  She laughed and I wondered if she wasn’t _already_ off the deep end…  “I figured it out just in time though.  I can read minds.”

 _…shouldn’t have thought that ‘already crazy’ thing_ , was all that registered for me.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” Crystal added.  “It’s more like…connecting with other people’s minds, if that makes sense.  It’s more than just reading.”

“On topic, please—how’d you get out?” Opal asked gently.

“Getting out was easy—staying hidden was interesting.  I used them—“ here she pointed to the treetops, where I couldn’t really see anything—“to keep out of sight.  The animals see everything, and know where the cameras are pointing because they think they’re birds of prey.  I’m using your sight now.” Crystal added.  On that note she looked straight at me and tried to straighten her hair out like I was a mirror.

“If you can read minds, can’t you just read your mentor?  See what the next move’s gonna be?” I asked out loud.

That enigma with telepathy left her hair alone and looked kinda frustrated.  “No, I can’t get anything from him, or the guards.  There’s something keeping me out…Alan said that?  Makes sense.  They developed that tech together.  Of course.  Of course!  Well, there’s no rules out here, so I can tell you everything!  Starting with his name.”

I started to feel an anger, deep down in my chest, that wasn’t mine.

“Syndrome.”

That name, it rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it…the glance Opal sent me said she recognized it too.

“You’re communicating by looking at each other.  That’s _weird_.” Crystal said.

Totally ignoring that, Opal demanded, “What else do you know that we don’t?”

“You mean, what is this all about?”  The blind girl smiled.  “Let’s start with—Sean didn’t cause the bus crash, a concussion bomb placed by Omnicorp agents did.  This facility isn’t run by the NSA.  Your relatives didn’t sign you over to us.  No one on the mainland knows you’re here.  In fact, half the country is on Amber Alert.  I was led to believe, like an _idiot,_ that it was all for the best.  And I lied to you.”

“Our parents are looking for us?” I said, getting a little dizzy at the thought.  (Screw the lying thing—Crystal didn’t know what she was doing.)

“…your parents are.” She said gently, to me.

I didn’t want to imagine how worried my dad was.  God, we’ve been here months!  My mom must have been worried too.  I couldn’t help picturing them sitting in a police station—grim, but in a room together without arguing for the first time in months.  What did the other park rangers think?  Did my parents wonder if I was dead?  Who was wondering where Opal and Sean were?

“We were kidnapped because we had powers, and weren’t exactly careful with them…but you didn’t have any until a few days ago, right?  How is that possible?  Kids that don’t go through the transition state won’t have powers.  That’s how it works.” Opal said.  I’d trust her, she did the research.

Crystal seemed to light up at that.  “We weren’t with the NSA, but we did know NSA secrets.  Want to know the best one?  The best-kept secret since the moon landing?  Want to know why Supers aren’t supposed to breed?”

“Yes.” I said.  (If she started monologue-ing we’d never get to the point.)

She sent me a “stop ruining my moment” glare, and boy was it weird to see her sending looks.

“It’s just a theory, technically.  That the Super gene has incomplete dominance—ancient Greeks wrote about it in epics.  When a god and a mortal had a kid, the kid could have powers, even great ones, but wouldn’t be exactly a god.  They’d be mortal.  They wouldn’t go through the transition state.  They’d be born with a downside, too.  Something biological.  Incurable.  Something to be overcome, or brought down by.  Scientists now call what’s passed on to a half-Super the junk gene, or the villain gene.  Hah!  Like being born sick or something makes you a villain…”

“Downside?  What, like kryptonite?” I blurted out.

The pacing Crystal’d started like two sentences in didn’t stop when she answered, “No.  Biological.” Here she paused to run a hand through her hair, messing it up again, with her other hand on her hip.  “Like Alexi Nikolaevich’s hemophilia, like Macroburst’s XXY gene, like Stephen Hawking, like borderline personality disorder…like this.”  She waved her hand over her (white) eyes and kept pacing.

“There are plenty of kids without sight in America, how’d Syndrome know you’d have powers?” Opal asked.

Crystal stopped moving.  “Still working on that one.  I’ve got a theory.”  She brought her thumbnail to her mouth in that thinking gesture and seemed to recede into herself again.  Then she quietly said, “…I think my mom was a Super.”

 _Was_.  I got the sense that I shouldn’t ask.  Being taken away from a parent and manipulated were painful enough—I knew that firsthand.  So I asked, “We’re getting off the island, right?”

Crystal looked back up at me with fire in her eyes.  “Yes.”

“What should we do?” Opal asked.

“Go back inside.  Tell the others what’s going on.  Rip the trackers out of the hems of your clothes, and leave those in your rooms.  At noon I’ll make sure all the forces are in the southern half of the island-while we’ll be breaking into the main terminus, on the north side.  Alan can get you there, he knows the way.  Tell him to bring any tech he can get his hands on…including that band I wore.”

I got a picture of it in my mind.  That electronic thing she was supposed to keep on.  I certainly didn’t call that up.

“Not your weapon, the thing you trained with?” Opal asked.

“No, I’m making a point to my former ‘mentor’.  Got the plan?” Crystal asked.

“Think so…” I managed to say.

“Good.  There’s a patrol coming this way—get back inside.  Get sleep.  Be ready to fight.”  That enigma turned and walked back to the tree line—but stopped and said over her shoulder, “You’re getting off this island.”  And she was gone again.

Opal and I were left in silence.

“…come on.  Let’s go.”  My friend didn’t even bother turning into a wolf again, she just walked off in the direction we came from.  I had to jog to keep up with her, stripping seeds off of plants and jamming them in my pockets as I went.

It didn’t seem like she cared where she was going.  Her mind was somewhere else.  I hadn’t seen her like this since our first day here…

“Slow down—Opal, what are you thinking about?” I asked, stepping over a log.

“I knew there was something familiar here, I—I should’ve _known_ …”

“What are you talking about?”

She turned on me, angry. “We’ve heard this before!  Nomanisan, Syndrome, the Incredibles—“

Something clicked in my brain…but it was all foggy, and slow, like trying to swim through molasses, or waking up from amnesia in a strange place…

“I remember we were taught something in school…” I said.  But it was still just out of reach.

Opal talked then, as we walked, quickly and furiously.  She told me about all that happened ten years ago, and all that came out after the villain was defeated.  Slowly it started to come back.  Bit by bit.  We were almost back to the doors by the time she was done.

“…does that sound familiar to you?”

It clicked.

“Yeah, it does!” I exclaimed.

“See?”

“That is _exactly_ the plot of Iron Man 3!”

“Ivy!  I’m _serious_ …”  She scolded, and looked to the ominous jungle.  “…I think my parents died here.”

Suddenly the forest was colder, and I could feel electronic eyes watching us from everywhere.  Her parents—I’d known they were superheroes—died here.  On this island.  Killed by a maniac over a 15-year-old grudge.  That I guess we’re right in the middle of.  Yeah, things were bad.

We were in so deep that I wondered if I’d ever get to see my parents again.

I had a choice then.  I could go inside, pretend we didn’t hear any of that, point the nearest guard towards Crystal, and go back to routine.  Or…I could go along with this crazy plan, and either get my friends and I killed, or free us.  Part of me wanted to cling to the bit of safety and promise I was given, part of me knew deep down I’d be surrendering my life to a stranger.  So.  Give in to that wounded part of my mind, the me that still needed shelter from my parent’s divorce, or screw my courage to the sticking place and possibly free us?  I’d have to choose soon.

Opal…she had that choice, too.  I caught sight of her face out of the corner of my eye.  She looked…scared, I think, and lost.  O Captain my Captain looked scared.  And I didn’t need mind-reading powers to know she was thinking of Sean.  The question Crystal asked us once came swimming to the forefront of my mind…

“...would you let someone kill to get off this island?” I started, interrupting her thoughts.

“I don’t….I can’t even….I don’t know. What’s going to happen to us?” she asked me, tears in her eyes.

Two choices.  My best friend was in need, and I guess that hero part of me wouldn’t let me choose any other way.  Safety or sticking place?

“…we’re screwing it.” I said.

“What?”

“Let’s go.”  Verbal muck-up ignored, I took Opal’s hand and led her back through the doors.


	13. S.O.S.

Brandon—

The two girls woke me up way too early, insisting it was an emergency and the guards couldn’t see us having a pow-wow.  They dragged me into their room, where Alan was already sulking.  Opal carried Sean in soon after.  I was with him.  It was way too early, I wanted to be asleep again.

“Alan, look for listening devices.  Look carefully!  This is important!” Opal commanded.  Her voice was really serious.  Alan did what she said, looking around every corner, scanning electricity with his hands or whatever.  Ivy left again.  I yawned and wondered if any of the older kids had slept at all.

“Whuzzat, Sissy?” Sean complained.  “Why we up?”

Alan turned around in his search and said, “Yeah, what the hell?”

I was too sleepy to notice he’d said a bad word.  Opal silently motioned for him to keep looking.  He did.  Ivy came back, holding the small white circle I’d seen before.

“Found it!” she said.  “Behind her bed.  Whole place is wrecked, her books and toys…” The plant girl shook her head.  The wreckage must’ve been bad.  “I think she did it.  Can we trust her?”

Sean curled up against his sister.  “I think we have to.” Opal said in this somber voice.

“This room’s clean.” Alan said, yawning like me.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said.  “What’s this about?  You said you found something.”

 _Yeah, Crystal’s bracelet_ , I tried to say.

Opal’s voice got really quiet.  “We found Crystal.  Talked to her.”

Alan got surprised and walked back to the little gathering.  He hung on every word.  He and Crystal were brother and sister, I thought.

“Was she here?  In the facility?” he asked, sitting down.

“No, she was outside.  She’s still out there, if they haven’t caught her yet.” Opal answered.  I woke up a bit more.

“Why didn’t you bring her back?” Alan demanded to know.

“She said we’d been kidnapped by a villain, not adopted by the NSA.” Ivy said back.

I woke up some more when Ivy and Opal explained what happened just an hour ago.  It was good that the blind girl’s powers had woken up.  But some deep-down part of me started to get scared again.  I’d been taken by a villain.  Did I even start that fire at my house?  I couldn’t tell!  The more I dug for the memories of that villain they said took us, the less I got, like there was some smokey white wall between some memories and me.  I couldn’t remember my friends at my old school.  Why couldn’t I remember my friends?  I almost missed Opal wrapping up the speech.

“…I know this is going to take a while to accept—“

“Wasn’t it, like, obvious?” Alan said.

“You—you knew this stuff?” Opal cried.

“You didn’t tell us this stuff?” Ivy said, a lot angrier.  “You knew all along and didn’t tell us?  You didn’t go, ‘Hey—there’s tater tots in the cafeteria.  Oh, yeah, and everything you were told about this place was a lie.’”

“We were under orders, Chrys and I.” Alan replied calmly.  “And you would’ve found out eventually.  Not the parts about the bombs, obviously, some of the other stuff.  When you forgot enough stuff about Super history.  Syndrome says he’s not a villain.  Some facts just got mixed up.”

I leaned away from the teenager, because Opal looked like she was gonna hit him.

“You believed him?” Sean said in an amazed voice.  I still didn’t remember who we were talking about.  That was smokey-fuzzy, too.

Ivy just laughed, out loud.  She sounded kinda insane.  “It’s all got to be some sort of prank though!  A guy can’t just come to life again.  Opal, you’re the Super lore follower, you saw what was on the news, right?  The villain went through a jet turbine.  Shredded!  News crews caught that on camera.”

“In grainy old black-and-white, from a helicopter a mile away.” Opal muttered.  The idea scared her too but she believed what Crystal said.

“Please tell me this is a Voldemort thing.” Ivy said to Alan.  “Or a zombie thing.  A Darth Vader thing?  My money’s on Darth Vader thing……no, Weekend at Bernie’s, Weekend at Bernie’s!”

“I’ve got no idea.  I even asked once.  But believe me, he’s the real deal.” Alan said.

“That said…are we sure we want to do this?” Opal asked us all.

“I think I get what she’s planning.  We can’t steal a craft to take us to the mainland.  The jet’s connected to the main computer network.  Even if we could get into that, and unhook the jet, then get to the other end of the complex, steal it, and fly away, it could still be re-hacked and fly us right back.  There are perimeter defenses out past the shore to contend with too.  Rescue’s gotta come from outside, we gotta send an S.O.S. and the cavalry’s gotta come to us.” Alan said.  “It’ll be a lot of fighting our way out.  We probably won’t make it.”

“We can fight!  You’ve been brainwashed!” Ivy yelled.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with!” Alan yelled back.  “It’s a miracle you got out there and back undetected!  There’s all kinds of security out in the jungle!  Sentries, traps, guards, cameras with thermal, EMP fields, flash-bangs that blind you—“

“Then you know how to deal with them!”

“And what’ll you be going back to?” Alan snapped.  There it was.  “IF this magical cavalry arrives, and the bad guy’s defeated, what’ll we be going back to?  I dunno about you, but I don’t have a place on the mainland anymore.”

“I’ll _make_ a place.” Ivy said in a softer voice.  Her hand was back in Opal’s.

“We have to do this.  Are you with us?” Opal asked.

“Of course!” Alan said.  “If Crystal is, and the boys are.  Someone’s gotta keep your butts in line.”

Sean giggled in a sleepy way, and repeated, “Butts.”

“I’m i—“ I tried to say ‘I’m in’, but it got cut off by a yawn.  So I nodded.

Opal regarded the little brother curled up in her lap.  He looked up at her and asked, “Was I supposed to say yes?  I stick with you, Sissy.”  Opal smiled at him.

“When do we leave?” I asked.  I had to get some things first.

“Noon.  There’ll be a signal.” Ivy answered.  “Until then, it’s a normal day, and we don’t know a thing.”

It was a totally normal day.  We ripped little black chips the size of fleas out of our clothes and went back to our rooms.  I threw my chip under my bed and caught a nap before the guards woke us all up.  I did a good job, pretending I knew about as much as the guards did.  It was funny.  They didn’t suspect a thing, even though Sean was being weird all day.  (He’s a bad liar.)  I made sure to grab my jacket and keep it on all the time.  I was really gonna miss my fireproof room.

Lunch got closer and closer.  We pretended to play a game of telephone, and whispered Alan’s instructions to one another.  We’d slip out whenever we got the signal—whatever that was—and meet up by a certain corner.  Alan knew the rest of the way.  He was like, a senior OmniCorp technician, but with longer hair and more sighs.  I started to remember my old school.

Time passed and passed.  Then all of the sudden, alarms went off.  Some voice was saying code 9 spotted in the southern quadrant.

“I guess that’s the signal!” Ivy said.

Two of our guards had to ditch us.  It was easier to get away then, but we weren’t playing a game this time, we were about to break all the rules ever invented.  We met up with Alan one by one and snuck through hallways and by-ways and about all the other ways I could imagine.  It was a really big place.  Really scary, too, since we were breaking the rules.  Ivy had a seedling she fed through the card-slots by the doors to break them from the inside, and Alan concentrated really hard, locking the doors behind us.  If we were caught we were going to be in so much trouble.

Finally we got to a door that someone was knocking on from the outside.  Alan opened it and the blind girl walked in, alone.  She didn’t look blind anymore.  She did look a little ragged, and maybe a little crazy.  Mostly her hair.

“We should hurry—they’ll figure out my trick any second!” was all she said.  No ‘hello’ or anything.

“Hold up!  You’ve got some explaining to do!” Alan said in that big kid voice.

“Don’t sound like our boss, I’ve had enough of that tone!” she said, and walked on by him.  She made sure to whisper, “I was worried about you too.” As she passed.

“Nerd.” He whispered back.

“Got you the insta-Mentor bracelet.” The plant girl said, holding it out to Crystal.  The white-haired girl took it without even looking that way.  “What are you gonna use it for?”

“I thought we’d press the button and drop it off a cliff or something.  Give my mentor a heart attack.” Crystal said with a grin.

“Whatever.  Just don’t press that button on accident, okay?” Ivy said.

“I won’t.”

“You know where we are?  Coordinates and stuff?” I asked.  This mission wouldn’t do much good unless the good guys knew where we were.

“Of course.  Chrys and I tried to order a pizza from the mainland once.” Alan said. “The manager of that Domino’s yelled at us.”

“Not much time to talk, I’m afraid, we need to send a message to our friends on the mainland.  The NSA will be interested to know this island isn’t really abandoned…” Crystal said.  We kept up with her fast-walking, eyes darting to every doorway.

“I thought you needed some kind of special key to get into—….” Opal started.  In the middle of her sentence, Crystal pulled a keycard out of her pocket and held it up.  I guessed that was the one she stole to get out in the first place.

“Once we’re in we’ll have only a short while.  This thing is going to set off alarms so we have to be ready to dance once we use it.” Crystal said.  We stopped in front of another door, this one double-wide.  I guessed this was near the place we were going.  No one ever fills me in on anything.

“Stop, stop—Chrys, look at me!” Alan commanded.  He took the girl by the shoulders, like she did to me once.  “You were Syndrome’s favorite!  What, did he blow up your home planet of Alderaan or something?  Why are you doing this?  There’s nothing left for us on the mainland!”

With this deep look of _something_ —I think pain, and regret, and a good bit of anger—she reached up and brought their foreheads together.  They stood like that for just a second but something unseen passed to Alan, and when she released him, he had the same look, only more raw.

“We were lied to.  Used.” Crystal said.  “If we ever want to escape that, our best chance is here and now.”

The technopath looked back at us and said, “Do it.”

Crystal used the card on the door and we practically tumbled into the new room.  It was bigger than I expected, and all windows on one side.

“Okay, what kind of security’s guarding this thing?” Ivy said quickly.

“That security.”  Crystal pointed at the opposite wall.  I was so busy looking at the windows that I didn’t notice the full-on lava waterfall.

“No one brought marshmallows…” I moaned.

“Rich people are ridiculous.” Ivy muttered, just staring at the cascade.  She was wrong, if I was rich I’d totally have a lava waterfall.  I’d have a pet tiger too!

“Alan and I are going in.  Before you ask, we’ve been here, Alan’s the hacker, I can guess the password and it might all be Braille encoded.  Why Braille?  No one bothers to learn it.  If the rest of you get caught before we get out, leave us behind.” Crystal commanded.  She put her bracelet back on.

“No way!” Opal said.

“No talk time!”  Alan took Crystal’s arm and guided her to the middle of the wall.

Apparently, all they had to do to get in is stand in a certain spot together, because to our amazement, the wall split and revealed a long and dangerous-looking hallway.

“Good luck!” Opal said.  Sean saluted.  Crystal gave us a nod and a smile, then both of them disappeared inside the lava.  A second later the wall closed.

More waiting.  I wasn’t looking forward to fighting and running for our lives.  But sheesh, this waiting around and worrying was worse.  Opal and Ivy guarded both doors with ready looks on their faces.  I could see them being Superheroes one day.  They’d be the best Superheroes.

Sean and I invented a game, sometime after the lights went out.  We stood by the middle of the lava wall, guarding it.  That was our job.  It was really warm by the wall.  We’d take turns getting our hands closer and closer to the wall, until we were almost touching it.  The one who could get closer and last longer was the winner.  I won almost every time.

Something odd was happening.  I could get as close as I wanted and it wouldn’t really…hurt?  Was I imagining the hurt?  When it was my turn again I kept inching and inching my hand closer to the deadly lava.  It didn’t hurt now that I didn’t expect it to.  I could get closer and closer, until the sleeve of my jacket was smoking, and it wouldn’t hurt!  I bet I could touch the lava—

The wall split open again with a great sound.  Alan and Crystal rushed out, looking excited.

“Did you do it?” Ivy asked.

“Yeah!” Alan was breathless.  “Sent a message all the way to NSA headquarters.  Borrowed 11.95 from their accounts, too, to show ‘em we’re for real.”  Enough for a pizza.  Nice.  “Shut down the perimeter fences and the geothermal generators.  Chrys guessed the password—“

“—Rhea, personal but dissociated—“ the girl piped up.

“—we really messed up this place!” Alan finished.

“It’s good to be bad.” Crystal said, nudging him.

“How long do we have till help arrives?” Opal asked.

“A couple hours, maybe three.  The NSA is sending their best.”

“Good, we should leave—“

Opal didn’t get to finish her sentence.  The doors opened and men in uniforms started pouring through.  One of them yelled, “Freeze!”

Of course we didn’t freeze.  No one ever freezes when you yell “freeze”!

Ivy’s vine lashed one across the face, and the fight was on.  Some Super instinct made us scatter.  This flash of blue light came from my left and suddenly there was a large striped thing where Opal had been standing.  This was like training, I could handle this.  I could handle it if I just thought of it as training!

Then shots started flying over our heads (I think now they weren’t aiming to take us down, we looked cornered).  Alan held his hand out and a few of the (really large) guns sparked.  A man rushed me and some protective instinct took over.  I backed up as far as I dared and fired at him.

He didn’t burst into flames or anything, but that sure as heck scared him.  He jumped back.  I could keep people back like that!  I fired again, making the jets longer and longer.  I swept them around—careful not to hit my friends—and kept that chaos back.  The guards’ suits were flame-proof but they definitely weren’t heat-proof.  Some of them collapsed, one even crawled away.  This was insane!

Opal, as a bear, was sweeping ginormous paws at the guys firing at her.  Sean was tucked behind her and aimed little screams at the nearest ones.  In the small space, the sound was intense.  Ivy had grown vines all over herself (were they coming from her pockets?) and my God.  She was what my grandpa calls “a woman to be reckoned with”.  Like “a force of nature to be reckoned with”.  Same thing.  The guards weren’t aiming to miss anymore.  I just kept firing and firing to keep the worst of them back.

Some shots of yellowish light were pointed at the guards.  Alan got himself a weapon.  I didn’t know what they were firing but it scared me.  Opal got hit in the arm and her roar was almost as loud as Sean’s sonic scream.  She tried to scrape off something that clung to her fur and ended up transforming out of it, and into another animal.

The room was getting smoky.

I thought we were winning, but more and more guards were coming through by the second.  It was like they couldn’t throw robots or whatever at us, in this space, but they could throw guards, so they sent as many as they could.  I wondered if any one of them were the guard that snuck me candy.

When I was distracted, something grazed my neck that felt like a thousand little needles.  I made a gasping sound and clapped a hand to the spot.

My hands were covered in flame now, and it didn’t hurt at all.  In fact it got rid of the stinging where I was hit.  I couldn’t care if the bad guys were catching fire.  They were shooting at us, and everything was chaos, and even if I was only 9 years old I could see we weren’t going to win this battle.  They were backing us up against the lava wall.

The white-haired girl was just behind Alan.  She’d got a pistol of some kind and was just firing wildly.  Someone’s plastic visor went skittering across the floor and hit her foot (probably Opal’s work).  Suddenly Crystal stood up.

“Their visors!  Alan, you feel it, the tech—“ She dodged a grabbing hand and fired some more.

“—it’s in their visors!” Alan answered.  His voice boomed over the scuffle.  “GET THEIR VISORS OFF!”

I couldn’t, my power didn’t let me get close.  I hung on as best I could.  Then something odd happened.

A few of the guards who’d been knocked down or smacked in the face just…stopped firing?  They stopped moving altogether.  They looked like zombies.  While Alan put his body between Crystal and the danger, she was concentrating hard.  Almost as zoned out as the zombies.  The zombie guys really messed with the military strategies the guys were using, and one in front of me even took a shot from his friend!

Opal tore through some guards as a tiger.  (Did I say I wanted one of those?  I don’t.  They’re scary.)  The door was covered in guys, meaning our only escape was blocked!  We still weren’t going to win.  I dodged left of some guy’s bad shot and flambéed him, then yelled the thought in my head for the mind-reader to hear.  My voice didn’t work again.  _We’re going to lose!_ I yelled.

“Then improvise!” she broke her own trance and yelled back.

I heard a deep gasp from somewhere else.  Was one of us hurt?  No, Sean was taking in a huge breath.

 “ _Everybody down_!” Crystal yelled in real life and in our heads.

Didn’t have to tell me twice!  I dived for the inky black floor and clapped my hands over my ears.

I held my breath for a second.  Then the whole world turned into chaos and noise.

Putting my hands over my ears was as much use as hiding under a blanket in a house fire.  It still felt like someone was testing a tornado siren right in this room.  Or drilling the floor right by my head.  Man, it was loud!

I made myself look up and saw this image that’ll stay with me forever.  Sean, the youngest of all of us, was standing tall over his sister.  Guards had been knocked down by the first second of the scream--they were standing up when it started and scattered everywhere like dolls.  And glass was raining down.  All the windows, ALL OF THEM, were shattered, and fell like rain, reflecting the reds and yellows and whites of the lava wall.  Even after the screaming stopped and my ears were ringing I watched.  I think I’d just seen a Superhero being born.

Ivy pulled me up.  We stumbled over soldiers and crunched over glass.  Guess they should’ve made this room Sean-proof too.  The jungle outside was just a short drop away, and we made it, clinging to one another’s arms, emerging into the afternoon sun.

Someone said something about getting as far away as possible.  I dunno, my hearing hadn’t come back all the way yet.  We started for the trees and almost disappeared into the jungle when this one guy’s voice yelled after us.

“Move and I fire!” he said.

We turned around, and one shaky, demented-looking guard was pointing his weapon at us.  We weren’t quick enough and one of them recovered.  I remembered the stinging in my neck, Opal’s roar, and I decided I’d like none of us to take a direct hit.

More guys poured into the wrecked room.  I could hear them before I could see them.  Their footsteps echoed out through the opened windows.  Crystal walked forward and faced down the guard.  He barked another order and she stood still.

Dozens of guards were lined up at the windows, all weapons pointed at us.

I realized that I could see the recovered guard’s whole face.  His visor had shattered.

In a soft voice, Crystal just said, “Sorry, Dave.”

Dave’s eyes rolled up in his head, or went cloudy or something.  He moved in this stiff, jerky way.  Before anyone could say mum Dave had turned around and unloaded like his whole gun into the crowd of guards.  They went down twitching.  Crystal mimicked his movements with her arms the whole time.  Was she controlling him?  Like a puppet?

Opal gasped—“What were they shooting at us?”

The guard named Dave, now the last guy standing, looked around at his friends awkwardly.  He didn’t know what to do with himself.  Crystal said a little “Oh,” made a motion with her hands, and the rifle Dave was holding swung around to point in his own face.  He pulled the trigger and went down twitching like everyone else.

“Electric napalm.  Electric napalm!  It’s just to knock us out!” Alan said to kill Opal’s fears.  I thought about what touched my neck and clung to Opal’s arm.  Yeowch.  They weren’t kidding around.

“Don’t count on them using it.”  Crystal turned back to talk to us, now 150 percent scarier.  “Some of them fought Supers before.  They know it’s kill or be killed.  Assume Syndrome doesn’t have total control over his security force anymore.  They’ll be using live ammo.”

Opal pulled Sean and I closer to her.

“And on that cheery note, we leave!” Ivy said.

We took off into the jungle, running for our lives.


	14. Deja Vu

Jack—

Okay.  So.  There was probably a good reason why I was crouching in the back of the family jet, totally unseen, halfway over the Pacific, headed towards some crazy death-island.

But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember it.

I’d had a plan.  Was it to just jump out and yell “SURPRISE!” when we were too far away from Metroville to head back and drop me off?  Explain my presence to Mom and Dad?  Have them see that, since I could sneak aboard the Incredijet undetected by four world-class Superheroes, I could totally handle wherever they were going without me?  That was probably it.  I made this plan when I still thought they were going to battle some wannabe tyrant with a death ray, or a giant praying mantis, or something.  I’d had no idea what they were _actually_ going to face.

It all started when I accidentally overheard Mom on the phone.

I’d been doing homework (why do heroes in training have to do homework?) when the phone rang.  Not the normal phone, of course.  The red phone in Dad’s office.  I was really, really tempted to pick it up but Mom got to it first.  If Dash hadn’t moved out last fall to go to college, he would’ve had it long before Mom or I could even move.

“This is Mrs. Incredible.” She said into the phone.  “Agent Dicker, it’s been a while….The jet?  Yeah, I’m still qualified.  What’s going on?”

That’s what got my attention.  We only use the NSA-issued jet for big-important-international missions.  Missions I stay home for, because I’m only 11.  (I’ll be 12 next month.)  See, with our phones, you can pick up the one in the kitchen and press 4 to get linked in to the red phone.  It’s how Mom and Dad both talk to the President or whoever else calls us when stuff’s going down.  My parents know about the kitchen phone.  But they don’t know I know about the kitchen phone.  So I accidentally ‘jumped’ down into the kitchen, accidentally picked up the phone, and accidentally pressed 4.

(‘Jumping’s what I call teleporting, because it makes your stomach jump a little when you do it, and also it’s shorter than ‘teleporting’.)

The sleepy voice of Agent Rick Dicker was on the other end of the line.

“That’s what we thought, too.  We sent agents over there yearly to check the place out.  Aside from some anomalies, it’s been clean.”

“I’ve heard rumors about the ‘anomalies’ on Nomanisan.” My mom said.

“The younger agents like to talk.”

“And they like ghost stories.  Is there any other explanation for the message?  An old computer program, maybe?  A distraction?  A prank?”

“I hoped so, Elastigirl, but I’m afraid not.  Our best computer technicians looked into it.  And…it ended with the words ‘S is back’.  We don’t want to take any chances, so we’re sending in our best.”

“I can have the family ready in an hour.” Mom said.

I almost scoffed and blew my cover.  An hour?  It takes twice that long for Violet to tear herself away from her boyfriend.  Ahem—fiancé.

“You do that.  Good luck, Elastigirl.” Agent Dicker said.

I waited till the sound of me hanging up the phone wouldn’t be heard, then I jumped back upstairs.  Mom made some more phone calls and I caught her just as she was heading for the suits we kept behind a false wall.

“Hey, Mom.  Who was that?  The President?  Did you tell him we’re sorry about his front lawn?” I said, all the words falling out in a jumble.  I was excited, all right?  And I didn’t make a habit of lying to our parents, unlike my brother.

“Just Mr. Dicker with some work to be done.” Mom answered.  She didn’t even notice my bad attempt at being suave.  She was majorly distracted, but still found some Mom energy in her.  “You finish your homework, hon?”

“Almost.  When should I suit up?”

“You’re sitting this one out, I’m afraid.  You’ve got homework.  Don’t give me that face, it’s just busy work.  Dad and I will be back by tomorrow morning.”  She ruffled my hair—the same color as hers, only hers was sporting some gray—and walked around me to go get her suit.

I couldn’t believe it.  Something so major even Mom, the mighty Elastigirl, defeater of bad guys and crime rings, was ruffled—and I wasn’t even invited?  Dash and Vi were going, but I was supposed to sit at home doing homework?  Unfair!  They really must’ve thought I wasn’t good enough to tag along.  The world had such high expectations for me.  Me, the youngest Incredible, who’d been out helping save the world since I was a toddler, the only one in our family who hadn’t made it huge yet.  I was busting my butt trying to live up to all that stuff, and what did my parents think?  I should sit this one out.  Unbelievable!

So I protested a little bit, asked if I could go anyway just to get some practice in.  Practicing hero work would be good for me, right Mom?  But she got that no-nonsense-young-man tone and wouldn’t budge an inch.  I was staying home and going nowhere else until they got back.  I pretended to sulk, and went up to my room.

As soon as I heard the front door click shut, I did what any preteen would do—I put on my supersuit, teleported out of the house, and followed my mom to the airport.

Sneaking onto the plane was difficult and tiring.  My family’s good at what they do.  They wouldn’t be the Incredibles if they weren’t.  I bet Mom and Dad half expected me to pull a stunt like the one I did.  But through some miracle, while the whole family was reuniting on the tarmac outside, I jumped right into my hiding spot on the Incredijet.  (It was a little closet, more of a cupboard really, where we’d keep changes of civilian clothes or random equipment when we needed to.  It was empty after our last mission.  If it wasn’t I would’ve gone sprawling onto the floor outside the closet.  That’s what happens when I try to teleport into a space that’s already occupied—I bounce into the nearest unoccupied space, and it doesn’t feel great.)

Half an hour in that little hiding space was a small price to pay for whatever adventure we were headed to, I figured.  The plane took off with Mom at the helm and I could barely hear my family’s chatter over the engines.  They were speaking in somber tones, like whatever news had rattled Mom was rattling them too.  I couldn’t remember anything affecting my family like that.  Baron von Ruthless and his army of steampunk androids?  Not a problem.  Doomsday device in the heart of the city?  We can deal with it.  Undead hamster swarm?  Weird, but manageable.  I couldn’t figure out what was going on.  So I just listened.

“Jack’s safe at home.  Three agents are watching the house, if anything happens they’ll know immediately.” Mom was telling Dad.  For some weird reason they were worried about me.  I felt pretty awkward, just sittin’ in a cupboard a few feet away.

“It just can’t be possible.  What did the message say, again?” Dad asked.

Vi, or should I say Ultraviolet, the most studious out of all of us, answered him.  “’Six Supers, in need of rescue, Nomanisan Island.  All in danger.’  Then coordinates, and, ‘S is back.’”

“It’s probably a prank, like an old computer message set up to bother us.” Dash’s quick voice said.  He didn’t sound as bothered as the rest of them.  Then again, nothing scares the Dash.

“It could be a distraction.  To gather us all away from the city, just in time for an attack.” Vi pointed out.  I shook my head in my hiding place.  Who would go to all that trouble, with such a weak message?

“It sounds like a trap.” Mom said.  That I nodded to.  She had a point.  Probably all those Super instincts and years of experience.  Listen to Mom, Mom is wise.

“Which is why we’re going to be cautious about this.” Dad addressed the group.  “We’ll keep very alert on the approach.  Our touch down point is on the Eastern shore, and first the Dash is going to scout out the immediate area— _very…carefully_.”

“Careful is my middle name!” Dash lied.

“No, it’s Robert.” Vi had to add.  I could imagine the glare he was sending her.

Dash changed the subject.  “We don’t really believe this guy’s back from the dead, right?  Like we were all there when it happened!  Ka-boom, he was totally gone!  Took out our old house while he was at it.  Never did find my Hot Wheels collection in the rubble.”

“Never found a body, either…” Violet mumbled.

“I don’t know.  It seems impossible.  Right now, all we know is the island was supposed to be totally abandoned, and somehow, someone sent a message from it.  That’s all we know.  When we get to that island, we’re going to find out what’s going on.” Dad announced.

I…honestly didn’t know what they were talking about.  The old house and the explosion and whatnot.  (Rest in pieces, Hot Wheels collection.  We hardly knew ye.)  I wasn’t told about all that ten years ago.  I’d have been just a baby, right?  I was told when I was really little I had separation issues, and I’d terrorize whatever NSA babysitter they’d try to leave me with, so I had to go on some Super jobs with them, but that was really all.  (My parents used to talk about when I was in the transition phase.  My dad would ruffle my hair and tell me how they all thought I’d settle into some transformation powers, maybe even super strength like him, but I surprised them all with my teleporting skills.  Mom heard an old wives’ tale from some ladies at the NSA.  It said the powers a baby uses most often are the powers he’ll settle into, and I _did_ like playing games with teleporting.)

I hadn’t really been told about this old villain that died on the job, the one they were all talking about on the jet, ten years later.  Buddy Pine.  Syndrome was supposed his Super name.  Jeez, we are really running out of names…Anyway he was one of few villains that killed a Super.  Not just one Super, we learned in school he was basically responsible for wiping out the west-coast Supers during the ban.  Not someone to be taken lightly.

“Mirage did mention something when I called her.” Mom said.  “He’d had a failsafe in place, just in case things went wrong.  A heart monitor in his suit relayed a signal to a computer on the Manta jet, and from there to the computers on the island.  If it ever flatlined all the incriminating files would be wiped.  Thank God for those Supers he killed, the files weren’t touched.  Mirage speculated the system had just malfunctioned, or since the whole monitor was destroyed…Either way, she was suspicious, but it could mean nothing.”

“Ka-boom…” Dash whispered, and there was the sound of Violet punching him in the arm.

Mirage, now _that_ was a name I’d heard of.  I didn’t know much about the mysterious Agent M’s past.  If I did, she wouldn’t be mysterious, right?  She and Mom go out for coffee sometimes and talk about lady stuff or work stuff or something.  I think Mom punched her in the face when they first met.  Obviously they made up since then.  All the best friendships start with accidentally punching someone in the face, I say.

“Are we totally sure Jack-Jack’s safe?” Violet asked, using my old nickname.  “Dad, you heard Syndrome’s last words.”

“A lot of bad guys promise revenge, Violet, it’s nothing to worry about.” Dad said.

“He promised he’d get Jack-Jack.” Dash said.  Even the great fearless Dash sounded scared of this.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Just in case…Violet, can you check Jack’s homing beacon?” Mom said.

_Uh-oh._

I tried to decide what to do.  Do I just step out and start explaining myself?  Do I wait for them to find me and say a witty one-liner when they do?  No matter what, I’ll be grounded for fifty years!

_…Unless I teleport outside the jet.  There’s an ocean under us, I’m sure I’ll be fine…_

The logo on my suit started beeping, matching the beeping from the hand-held device in the cabin of the jet.  _Oh man._

“No way.” I heard Violet say.

In no time at all, Dash was at my door and had it yanked open.  Light and fresh air streamed in.  Four pairs of eyes were on me, and jumping out of a moving jet sounded really, really, _really_ nice.

Only I was still tired from all the jumping I did earlier.  And from the look on Mom’s face, she’d go after me, and make sure I lived out all fifty painful years of my grounding.

“…hi.” I managed to squeak.

“I’m getting déjà vu.  Anyone else getting déjà vu?” Dash asked.

“JACKSON LUCIUS PARR!” Mom roared.  Why couldn’t I get invisibility, like Violet?

“I can explain…” I said.

“You’d better start explaining, young man!” Dad commanded.

And thus, the grilling commenced.  How did I get on the plane?  Hid out while you weren’t watching.  What did I hear on the phone?  Everything.  What did I hear on the jet?  Everything.  What was I thinking?  I dunno, obviously mistakes were made, if someone could just drop me off on the nearest available landmass that ISN’T a death island I would be ever so grateful, thank you all.  Mom and Dad had a few things to say about what I’d done, but they calmed down pretty quickly.  We had a situation on an island to worry about too.

At least I got out of the cupboard (without Dash making a ‘coming out of the closet’ joke), it was getting cramped in there.

As for dropping me off, we were well over the Pacific ocean.  Like it or not I was on this mission.  I took a seat beside my brother on the row of seats along the wall.  We looked like an impressive bunch, I could see why the masses at home were sure we could handle anything.  Mom, Dad, and I were dressed in the traditional family uniform.  E had tweaked it a few times over the years, but mostly it stayed the same.  Our look was known worldwide.  Dash was given his own design, but he kept the reds and golds (the papers called him ‘dashing’—a pun I could appreciate).  Violet’s suit was a striking black and purple, at the height of Super fashion, and going well with her hair, which was always pulled back with a matching headband.  (I wondered if she’d left her engagement ring at her house, in the secret spot she kept her mask, like our parents did with their wedding bands.)  The Incredibles looked ready for anything.

An old problem came back to haunt me in that moment—I was the only Super in my family without a name.  That problem had been bugging me for months.  On missions like this, when there were no bad guys or civilians around, my family could call each other by their real names.  When we were in the public eye and it was all business, my family didn’t use my name, or they just called me Jumper.  It wasn’t a real name.  It wasn’t _my_ name.  Sure, the papers had tried to pin names on me in the past.  TeleLad, Shadow Kid, and even (my dad always winced at this one, I never knew why), IncrediBoy.  That one was the press’s favorite.  I’d have to come up with my own soon.

Dad was filling me in on the mission details I hadn’t heard.  Problems with names and islands and villains buzzed in the back of my head—I was only half listening.  When he was done, Vi turned to me and tried to reassure me.

“Don’t worry, Jack-Jack.  We beat this guy once, we’ll beat him again.”

She looked so confident.  I just smiled and nodded, not mentioning that said bad guy has had ten years to prepare for us.

“Hey, J-J…when we land, race you outside!” Dash stage-whispered to me, like ‘he promised he’d get Jack-Jack’ didn’t happen.  Like he’d never been scared at all.

“You’re on!” I stage-whispered back.

Violet just shook her head and muttered, “Boys.”


	15. Trigger Incident

Ivy—

The afternoon sun was casting eerie shadows in the jungle, and the six of us tired, sweaty, battle-ready kids were still picking our way through steep slopes and winding valleys.  We stuck to the thickest parts of the forest.  I don’t even think we cared where we were going.  It was all about cover.  We must have been missing for hours, all thanks to me, Chrys, Brandon, and (I begrudgingly admit), Alan.

Alan’s sight gave us a unique advantage—he could see the radio waves bouncing between guards and up to the bad guy’s fortress, and he could even see what the blind telepath explained were infrared waves coming off of living animals through the trees.  They were red-orange and greenish-blue, respectively.  (In Alan’s world, infrared was greenish-blue.  I let myself chuckle at that.)  Once in a while he’d stop us dead, and some bio-probe would miss us in its scan, or some metal beast would lumber past us.  Sentries, he explained.  Robots with just enough space in their hollow cores to stuff a kid.

Crystal kept watch all over the island.  Her neural network let us know what threats were in the area, where they were going, and how fast.  Only part of her mind was on survival, though.  While we walked she was furiously thinking something through.  If I concentrated hard enough I could feel her mind working.  It was enough to give me a headache, honestly.

On the rare occasion we came across a tripwire or something old enough that I couldn’t move, Brandon lit up his hands and burned it, and we continued on.  I think his first taste of battle gave him more control over his abilities.  He wasn’t scared of hot stuff anymore.

Speaking of hot stuff, I did a huge job camouflaging our every step.  Since we first disappeared into the forest…I’d come alive.  This was my element.  This was where I was meant to be.  I moved and swayed the jungle to open up for us and close behind us.  It was like an ocean of green, and I was Moses.  There were vines wrapped in an X around my torso, around my arms and legs.  Should I choose to I’d have them lift me up and I’d move through the jungle ten feet off the ground, silent, and godlike.  I pitied anyone that tried to take me on in my element.

They should’ve never let me outside.

Opal broke the hot, tired silence and said, “Looks like all the training they gave us is working against them.”

Sean, who hadn’t spoken a word since his huge scream earlier, almost smiled.  He was walking hand-in-hand with his sister.  He looked a little shell-shocked.  I hoped he had another attack like that in him—because we weren’t rescued yet.

“We expected this from you.  My mentor did, I mean.  There were preparations in place.”  Crystal scoffed a bit.  “Never expected me to be the weakest link…or that his brainwashing wasn’t that strong.”

I sent Opal a questioning look at ‘brainwashing’.

Like on Jeopardy, Crystal answered our silent question with another question.  “Have you noticed mood swings?  Intrusive thoughts that can’t be yours?”

I looked around to the faces of my friends.  We’d stopped for a moment to rest and think.  Crystal’s telepathy is hard to describe, but I could _feel_ her watching me think back through the previous months, like when you know your every move is being recorded and the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, but it’s every thought inside your brain instead.  It’s like a spotlight’s being shined over the peaks and valleys of your every thought.  I knew a homeless guy that walked around yelling about CIA agents in his brain.  I wonder if this girl had somehow got to him.  I kinda felt like yelling too.  Feeling Chrys’s iron will and fortified brain at the edges of my own…well, I was just glad she was on our side.  Girl could do some major damage on the wrong team.

She seemed to calculate the information she was given.  She went on.  “Have you been forgetting things?  Right when you start thinking about what happened on the bus, or something you heard the guards say, does your mind wander?”

“What are you saying?” I demanded, maybe a bit more forcefully than I meant to.

Crystal didn’t even react.  “I have a theory.” She resumed her thinking gesture, and kept walking.

“Theories, theories.  How does that help us?” I said.

“What’s the theory?” Opal asked.  She was at least trying to be helpful.

There was a moment of silence.  Crystal didn’t say anything.

“It has something to do with how he ‘died’, doesn’t it?” Alan put his hand on her shoulder and asked.

“…yeah.  That’s where it starts.  The trigger incident.” That enigma answered.

“Didn’t you and Syndrome talk about it?”

“Yeah, Alan—right after we talked about getting our nails done and the cutest boy in my grade.”

“Seriously?”

“…..No.”

I walked on ahead while Chrys fixed Alan with the most scathing “you’re an idiot” look I’ve ever seen.  I was blazing a trail through forest that hadn’t been touched in ten years.  The oldest growth talked about a metal monster.  My fingers brushed through an ancient gash on the trunk of a tree.  I remembered Opal talking about what horrors happened on this island.  Maybe it was the heat, but my mind wandered to what our telepath had said way back when.  The six of us were supposed to be the new generation of Supers—to replace the ones cut down here, new growth bent and shaped to the will of our sadistic owner.

The whole island was like a flytrap.  God, it was so alluring, with its freedom and eternal summer.  Without a drastic move like the one Crystal pulled I think we could’ve stayed here forever.  We’d be trapped.  The thought scared me, and I started to look more objectively at the little patches of memory that were mysteriously gone from my brain.  Whose work was that?  What would’ve happened if we hadn’t broken free?

“There’s something here.” Alan said suddenly.

I walked over to where he was stopped.  There sure was, but I didn’t know what to make of it.  At the base of a huge, scarred tree, was the half-buried twisted remains of some metal _thing_.  Not an omnidroid.  Something with blades.

Crystal joined us.  “A Velocipod.”

Alan started picking through the remains.  He’d been fiddling with some components from a disassembled gun.  He seemed to think there’d be something useable in the wreckage, and employed Brandon to help him get it.  Opal picked up her six-year-old brother, who lay his head on her shoulder, and us girls looked over the ruined machine.  Crystal sent us a picture of what the modern ones looked like, straight from Alan’s brain.  They looked scary.  Through our lingering connection I saw Crystal recreating the wrecked Velocipod’s final moments…and then replaying another explosion, seen through old grainy footage and someone else’s eyes, over and over…

“…I think Syndrome survived because he’s part Super, like me.” Crystal said.

And here I thought his whole thing was he WASN’T Super.  That must’ve been awkward to find out. 

“What, like he got invincibility or something?” Brandon asked.  I knew Supers get some strength, intelligence, and invincibility, but I didn’t know about half-Supers.  I decided to work under the assumption Crystal was as frail as a normal girl.

“No, something else, something more dangerous.”  Crystal scowled at some memory, some thought.  She started talking with her hands again.  “Think.  What did they catch on video?  He’s almost in the turbine, it looks like his cape gets caught—Neomesh, durable enough to do a number on the engine—in a second he’s being pulled in and then the whole thing explodes!  No body.  Nothing at all.  What power did Jack Parr settle into?  The youngest Incredible, what is he?”

I thought hard.  Opal was the one to answer.

“Teleportation.  He’s a teleporter.”

“Bingo.”

I slowly put two and two together, under the eager spotlight of Crystal’s telepathy.

“Syndrome steals powers?”

“Copies.” She corrected.  “If he could steal them we’d be in a whole lot more trouble.  Actually, if he could steal them, he’d have gotten away with Jack Parr.  I bet he didn’t even know.  A latent ability.  His detached serial killing style worked against him.”  Crystal seemed to calm down, get distant.  Her moods ran hot and cold like that.  I could barely hear her.  “Someone should have known…Mr. Incredible, he knew other Superheroes…Hypershock, I think, is where the gene came from.  One of the Supers we wouldn’t talk much about…doesn’t matter now.  It’s history…”

“He’s been stealing our powers for how many years?” Alan said.  “He used yours to get in our heads?”

Crystal wilted into herself, ashamed, betrayed, unable to hide it behind a steely wall.  “Used it to rebuild an empire and keep all this hidden.  Needs physical contact, though.  During our meetings, he’d touch me on the shoulder, or the side of my face…I thought it was his way of saying ‘I’m over here’…” Her voice got a bit stronger.  “It only works for 30 minutes, maybe longer in battle.  But he gets your full power—like everything that’s written into your DNA.  What you’ll have in ten, twenty years.  Keep that in mind if you have to engage.”

I wanted to scoff at her.  I sure as hell wasn’t afraid of no power-stealing villains.  If I was right—which was usually the case—the original user of the power uses it best.  Crystal seemed way better at telepathy.  Maybe that’s why we had to do essays and practice in front of a one-way mirror.  Maybe he’d have to learn to use our powers like we had to learn to use them.

(All this thinking in the jungle heat made my brain hurt.)

“Got it!” Alan cried.  He ripped up some metal bit from the wreckage, an old thing with wires coming out of it like wild roots.

 _About time_ , I thought loudly.

“Let’s keep moving.” Opal reminded us.  We did.

Our technopath took bits of wire and electronics out of his pockets and assembled something as he walked.  Once in a while the blind girl had to steer him away from obstacles.  He’d be a chronic texter-and-walker, I just knew it.

“Still nothing from the boss?” he asked Crystal.

“No, just bits and pieces.  The guy in charge of us is getting thrown off a cliff for sure.” She replied.  “The tech keeping me out must be—“

“—In the mask, yeah.”

Chrys up and punched him in the arm.

“Ow!  What was that for?!”

“Helping with the telepathy-cancelling ion field!  Your sight made it possible, dweeb!”

“So sue me!  Jeesh, you punch like a girl.”

She did it again, for good measure.  Is ‘punch like a girl’ supposed to be an insult?  I didn’t notice.

Eventually, after a lot of walking, Alan finished his MacGuyvered thing.  After some questioning (which was just gesturing towards the thing, all we could manage in the heat) he just pressed a button and green electricity arced between two metal points, to the trunk of a nearby tree, leaving a scorch mark.  I almost asked what good a taser’s gonna do.  Then I remembered something we learned in school, about how much electricity it takes to make an arc like that.  Assassination tool.  Fun.

Suddenly we came over a ridge and the horizon opened up.  An expanse of blue water stretched out over the treetops.  We couldn’t have made it to the Eastern beach that quickly, right?

“Where are we?” Brandon asked the technopath.

“I dunno, I was following Ivy.” Alan said.

“I was following Opal!” I shot back.

“I was following you!” She replied.

Not good.

“Guys?”  Alan was looking out past the treetops, gazing at something we couldn’t see.

In an instant something strange happened to our vision.  Chrys’s doing.  We saw the world as he saw it, if only for a bit.  Out in the distance, spikes and curtains of greens and reds rose from the gray water.  Those lights didn’t mean anything good.

“…The perimeter fence is back up.”

And we were in the exact wrong spot to be rescued.  Just when everything was going rosy.

A flying machine zipped up over the treetops in front of us—someone’s startled brain yelled _Vulture_ —and we were caught in a beam of cyan light.

“RUN!”

Didn’t have to tell me twice.  I did what I could, throwing a creeper vine seed (that burst into a grabby web in midair) at the machine, but we were already caught.  I could almost hear an alarm being sent up over the radio.  (Maybe Alan could hear that.)  Electric napalm—or bullets—tore at the ground by our feet as we fled, back into the jungle, running without direction.

In seconds it seemed dozens of machines were on us.  Vultures tracked us from high above.  Between trees weaved Velocipods—they were faster than light and cut down all my attacks before they could hit home.  Shots of something bit through the air.  I could feel all the near misses, and every one of them made my heart speed up a little more, made my attacks a little more desperate.  One by one the machines split us off from each other.  We naturally took to footpaths that cut through the dense growth.  I heard someone trip and someone else drag them up.

Ground soldiers converged on us.  They were just as dangerous, and just as pissed off, but them I could manage better.  A line of them stood in front of us (keeping us from what?) and to my left I saw Opal, who’d been running hand in hand with Sean, dodge a shot that sailed between her and her little brother.  As soon as her hand left his, he let out an ear-piercing shriek that levelled three guards.

Concentrating hard, I made vines come to life behind the guards and wrap them in strangle-holds.  I threw one at the Velocipod bearing down on me and heard him land on top of it with a solid _thud_.  (Someone yelled “The hell?! Get off, Phil!” and I considered my job there done.)  Somewhere in the fray a huge Vulture crashed through the canopy and took out a number of flying machines.  Telepathy.  Awesome.

Once the ground guards were disarmed and tied high in the trees, I ran again.  I had no idea where the others were.  Adrenaline was pounding through my system—every nerve was wildly alive.  Was the person crashing through the undergrowth three yards away a guard or a friend?  I had no way to tell.  I burst into a clearing and found out what the guards were trying to keep us from.

It was a door, back into the facility.  Probably where the ground soldiers had streamed from like ants.  Inside was dark—it was just a black rectangle in the mountain’s rock face—but nothing was swarming out to attack me, so I assumed it was safe.

Inside or outside?

Something big and with many legs broke into the clearing behind me.  I turned and got a good look at what Nomanisan staff called a Sentry.  It was a roundish thing, built for rough terrain, marked faintly with ‘025’ and nigh indestructible.  I didn’t see any eyes but I knew I was fixed in its gaze.  Two of its legs readied to grab me.

That made up my mind real quick.  Inside or outside?  Inside it is!

I plunged into the darkness.


	16. Nowhere to Go

Opal—

I’d traded in the thick jungle for the stark corridors of Nomanisan’s base.  And I was hopelessly lost.

It was dark, inside.  No match for my night vision—but an obstacle nonetheless.  It seemed all the island’s resources, men and electricity included, were going into finding us and keeping the defenses up.  Or maybe someone thought the dark would slow intruders down.  There were surprisingly few guards.  I wound through hallway after hallway, doubling back and breaking through doors, going as fast as I could, cursing myself for losing my friends—losing Sean.

There were men shooting at us, I know, but that’s no excuse.  A better Super could’ve kept it together.  My parents would’ve done a better job.  Maybe Sean had been captured already.  Maybe they all had.

What would Ivy do?  I tried to focus on that, dodging a room full of people focusing on monitors.  Ivy would stick out her chin in that stubborn-yet-endearing way.  She’d kick guard butt and get to the East side of the island.  Then she’d punch Alan in the arm for helping a genocidal maniac build weapons.

I could do that.  I _would_ do that.….minus the Alan thing.

(Maybe I’d punch Alan.  I was 50/50 there.)

A team of five guards were waiting just around a corner.  I skidded on my cat’s paws to a halt.  Before the guards could react, I’d changed into a bear whose head scraped the ceiling, and made quick work of them—claws sheathed of course.

I looked over the five unconscious men, laying haphazardly around the hallway.  That was more like it.  (Violence like that was much easier when I pretended Sean was right behind me.  Protecting him at all costs, that was something I could do.)

Back in cat form, I kept running, even faster now.  I could find Sean and the others faster if I avoided conflict.  I could find Sean and the others faster if I just had directions!  A map would have been nice.  A mall directory.  Something.  I’d even brave the jungle outside again, if I could just see which way was East—

 _Bap_ , I ran headfirst into someone’s ankles.

“Wh-Opal?!” the someone said.

“Ivy!” I cried.  My head hurt like the dickens, and I was sprawled on the ground in a very undignified way, but boy was I glad to see her!  As soon as I could I changed back to being human.  (Humans have horrible night vision, I could barely see her face.)

“Anyone with you?” she asked.  No one was with her.

“No—know which way is out?” I asked back.

“Plants say the sun’s setting that way, we go this way, come on!”  Ivy took off jogging in one direction.  I hoped the plants were right.

Tigers have great night vision, so I took that form and led her.  We still made slow progress.  The whole base was on lockdown.  I wanted to get higher, maybe find a window, but whoever built this place didn’t believe in stairs, and no way was I getting cornered in an elevator.  We pressed on.

 _Crystal, if you’re listening, help out the others_ , I thought over and over.  I hadn’t prayed since I was little.  It felt a lot like praying.

Faintly, I heard a little, _affirmative_.

I’d quickly gotten used to the feeling of someone in my mind.  I didn’t have anything else to hide from her, her mentor had dug up everything about me.  When we walked in silence in the forest, I clumsily asked her for something.

I wondered if she knew anything about her parents.  She replied in pictures and the sound of words over the connection she’d tethered to all of us.  It was scary how she was growing into the power, but there was no time to slow down, or ask her to be careful.  Rescue was our first priority.  Rehabilitation could come later.

 _I remember a lot about my mother now._   She said.  I knew she only replied to me because I was like a mother myself, and didn’t think as many hurtful things as other people.  She remembered being very little, while her mother clutched her tightly, watching the TV.  Crystal had her sight back then.  Her mother said _That thing, I know that thing, he called it the Omnidroid_ to another woman in the room.  Sounds raged from the TV and the only other thing her mother said that day, hours later, after the whole thing was over, was _That’s it then_.  It was a scary day.  I recognized it as the day the Supers came back.  The day Syndrome supposedly died.  She remembered other things, too, happier things—like her grandmother’s accented voice telling her stories.  But that’s what she shared with me.

 _You want to see your parents_. She said.  She was right.  _I think Syndrome and I owe you that._ Right again.

I held Sean tight and prepared for the onslaught of memory.

The first thing I got was being picked up by my dad.  He was tall, broad-shouldered.  I must have been three—I thought my parents were immortal.  Doesn’t every kid?  My mom was shorter than my dad, and kept her blonde hair in a ponytail.  Before all the foster homes, and yes, before Sean, I had parents.  They weren’t just names on paperwork.  I’d ride on my dad’s shoulders, he’s where I got my kindness, and my mom would talk about exciting tales in a voice I could never keep up with.  Their Superhero names were Blazestone and Downburst.  At the edge of my mind I remembered when they disappeared.  My mom went first, and my dad said he was going to go find her.  He dropped me off at an uncle’s and I never saw him agai—

 _You don’t want to remember that_. Crystal said.  Somehow she cut off that memory before it could play out.

I snapped back into reality, secretly wiping tears on Sean’s shirt.  What she got from my mind wasn’t much, but it meant the world to me.  I tried to thank her but she was gone from my mind.  We continued on in silence, letting what just transpired stay a secret.

In the base—which was somehow creepier with only the emergency lights on—Ivy and I were winding through what must have been the middle of the whole complex.  The closer we got to the heart of it, the more secret operations we passed through.  There was a whole room with electronic blueprints covering wall monitors, and even glass-topped tables.  We didn’t stop to find out what they were for.  It was kind of novel thinking we were witnessing the inner workings of a black-market weapons company.  Ivy wanted to stop and smash some things, just because.

We found our way to a room I first guessed was a test chamber.  Ivy said we were getting close to an exit, and my nose agreed.  I could faintly smell outside air.  The doors leading to the place were left open, that should have been our first clue.  I ignored the scents of people and aggression under all the chemical and metal trails.  We were almost out, Ivy shouted to me.  My danger sense, the thing that had been waxing and waning since our fight started, was spiking again.  There was an opening up ahead.  We could both sense it, and it drove us wild.  We didn’t think twice about bursting through the open doorway without checking that the coast was clear.

Our mistake.

The doors slammed shut behind us, but we didn’t even notice.  Our eyes were on the 30-something guards standing in a ring around us, weapons zeroed in.  As our vision adjusted to the sunlight flooding the huge concrete space, we saw the head guard Raleigh and our teacher Ms. K standing right in front of us, holding weapons like the rest.

Seeing our teacher like that was quite a shock.  I knew she didn’t like us, that was always obvious, but I never expected to stumble in on her pointing a rifle at my chest, grinning like there was nowhere else she’d rather be.  Raleigh was stony-faced as ever, but a small smile curled up the corners of his mouth too.  The words _mercenaries_ and _mutiny_ crossed my frozen mind.  Where was Crystal’s mentor when we needed him?

“Nowhere to go now, little bird.” Raleigh said to me.

I could see daylight just over his shoulder, at the end of the long, mostly-empty hangar.  We were so close.

“Thought you were so smart, didn’t you?  You kids are nothing more than weapons!” the Harpy spoke up.  “Just numbers in a series, but you walk around like you own the world!”

Ivy’s hand snuck into mine.  I found my voice and said, “You’re one to talk, Harpy.”

Quickly, in almost imperceptible little jerks, Ivy moved my hand one way and then the other.  I caught on immediately.  She was indicating which ways we’d go when the countdown ended and all hell broke loose.  I remembered from my studies how troops would break enemy lines to divide and conquer.  My face betrayed none of what I knew.

“You know what?  I really hate Supers.” Raleigh said, the scar on his temple showing over his visor as his smile changed to a frown.  “Miss Kevorkian?  Do your worst.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”  The Harpy stepped towards us.

“So have I!” Ivy shouted.

In an instant her hand left mine and I was already diving in the direction we’d planned.  The barrel of Raleigh’s gun followed my path but as he fired I was already changing.  That flash of blue light drew many guards’ eyes (human instinct worked against them, blinding the closest ones) and I heard a vine impact flesh, then a short, enraged scream from Ms. K.  Ivy scored a hit on her way past the Harpy.

No time to celebrate.  I breezed just over the tight line of guards on sparrow’s wings, shots pock-marking the space just behind me.  My wings carved through the air as I pulled a tight loop and soared along the rows of backs.  It was too much to hope that in their scramble to shoot me, they’d shoot each other.  An elbow nearly cut my flight short and I changed for a second, just a second, into a big cat, kicking off of one unlucky guy to send my momentum away from them.  In an instant I was a small cat again.  By that time my share of the guards had turned around, and I scrambled for shelter away from the line of guns.

Stealth and speed were my greatest weapons.  All the time they’d trained me to use my biggest, most dangerous animals.  Well…they were about to see how dangerous a little bird could be.

My cat’s eyes found a derelict craft and faster than anyone could react, I was under it.  It was a big thing, a Vulture, parked and hooked up to machinery.  I was a sparrow again, weaving behind the craft, up through the thick cables and over the glass canopy on top.  I hovered there, unseen.  My eyes were drawn to the commotion on the other side of the hangar.

Ivy had made outstanding progress.  Half her guards were on the ground—one was even clinging to a ceiling rafter for dear life.  As I watched she stood five feet off the harsh concrete floor, manipulating the vines that shielded her and held her up, using them to take part of a Velocipod and wing it at the men shooting at her.  My own men had gathered under me.  They thought I was still under the craft.  How quaint.

I dove, changed into a grizzly bear, and took out five of them at once.

Not exactly graceful—but it did the trick.  Shots that would have killed a human stung my shoulder.  I climbed to my feet and swung at the guard who fired at me.  He banged against the steel wall of the Vulture and crumpled to the floor.  The bear’s body was too big, too slow—I needed something faster.  I thought _power_ , dodged fire as I changed, and unsheathed my claws.

One guard got in a shot to the ribs as I reared up and used all my strength to strike him across the face.  He went down like a sack of potatoes.  Whatever their uniforms were made of deflected my claws.  His head was protected, and he wouldn’t end up looking like Raleigh, but tigers still hit hard.  Another guard with a death wish tried to use the butt of his gun on my head.  In one swipe of my seven-inch-wide paw, I swept his legs out from under him, and used my fangs to wrench his gun away.  If he couldn’t use it responsibly, he couldn’t have it.  He chose that moment to hold his hands up in surrender.  With a toss of my head I sent his rifle spinning across the concrete floor.  It stopped somewhere under another parked aircraft.  The guard scrambled the other way.

My wounds hurt, really hurt, reminding me that this wasn’t training.  The light emanating from the open hangar doors was my goal.  I aimed that way, taking out the guards in my path.  My tiger’s body started to feel heavy and hard to move.  My energy was starting to wane.  I couldn’t keep up with all the changing I’d been doing, not for much longer.

Ivy’s fight had boiled down to just her and the Harpy.  They were exchanging blow after blow, just in front of the hangar doors.  In a split second I saw why the Ukranian was chosen to teach us to fight.  Her bullets had long since been embedded in the thick, protective wood of Ivy’s plants, but she was still gaining the upper hand.  She dodged Ivy’s sloppy attacks with practiced moves, and darted in to hit the younger girl whenever she could.  I couldn’t see an opening.  They were just too entangled in their fight.  The Harpy’s rifle had a sort of baton attached to the end of it, something I’d seen on the ends of policemen’s guns in pictures of riots.  A crowd control baton.  The business end of it crackled with electricity.

My friend had taken too many hits from that—her attacks were too slow and too uncoordinated.  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted one last guard—Raleigh, I could see the darker stripes on his shoulders—standing and taking aim at the fight.  He certainly wasn’t out of bullets.  And he was pointing his gun right at Ivy.

I acted simply on instinct.  I was already running for him.  He lined up the shot.  The Harpy moved in and the end of her gun connected with Ivy’s stomach.  I leapt.  My outstretched claws made contact with his shoulders just as an impossibly loud shot sounded.  My full momentum took Raleigh down, and I landed on him.

My face was inches from his and I roared, as loud and as long as I could.

Some sentences can be understood across all languages, human or animal.  That roar meant _You don’t touch my family_.  I like to think he got the message.  As the sound faded, my ears still ringing, his terrified eyes rolled up in his head and the fearsome Head Guard went limp under me.

I whipped around to find both Ivy and the Harpy on the ground.  My breath caught in my throat.  Neither of them were moving.  I was almost too scared to go over to them, afraid of what I might see…

Then Ivy sat up, her hair as wild as her vines.  In a breathless voice she said, “Jeesh, that was loud.  Did a bomb go off in here?”

If tigers could laugh, I’d have broken down into fits.  (Tigers chuff instead of laughing.)  I padded over to her to inspect the damage.

On the floor, the Harpy groaned.  Raleigh’s shot hit her square in the shoulder.  If she hadn’t dropped Ivy with that shock baton, my friend would have taken the bullet.

Ivy took a moment to get her legs working again.  She questioned me about my roaring, like that was the most important thing that happened in the last 60 seconds.  I was kind of amazed she still had the energy to worry about nonsense.  Only Ivy.  I watched the Harpy reach for her gun with her working hand.  She made pitiful progress towards it, stopped by me putting a paw over the weapon.  Have I mentioned I don’t like guns?  My claws dug into the floor and behind me, Ivy got up and joined us, looking down at our former teacher and tormentor.

The Harpy said something hateful but I didn’t hear it.  Another voice was in my head.  A far more urgent one.

 _Alan and Sean are in trouble,_ it said.  _Alan and Sean need help._

The message was faint at first.  The transmitter had been trying to get this message to us for a while.  Panic rose in me as the distress call got stronger.  My danger sense was spiking again.

I looked at Ivy.  She was getting it, too.  We had to do something about the Harpy—she was just wounded.  My friend picked up the Harpy’s weapon (I lifted my paw to let her) and solemnly put the tip of the baton into the woman’s good shoulder.  She yelped and went limp.  Ivy threw the weapon out the hangar doors, where we heard it crash somewhere in the forest below.

The psychic distress call got stronger and stronger, until I was seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.  I couldn’t stop the images.  They bled up through my mind and slowly blocked out reality.

I was seeing what Sean was seeing.  He was farther South, I knew—when we split up, Alan took him through the forest, between the island’s two peaks.  I never noticed before but Sean’s vision and hearing were weird.  The sensory information I was getting from him seemed so alien.  Colors were really bright, depth was warped, and while sound was more true to life, he heard like my cat or owl heard, every sound magnified times ten.  I couldn’t place why this was.  Stress?  I didn’t have time to worry about it—what was happening in front of him grabbed my attention and panic rose in my head.

Sean and Alan had made it to the Tidal Flats.  Alan muttered, out of breath, about how they should’ve stayed under cover.  They were turned around, backing away from something, Alan between Sean and the threat.  Sean’s heart was beating hard.  At the edge of the clearing, Syndrome had just landed.

Was it really the man who killed my parents?  I couldn’t tell.  Sean, like a frightened animal, wouldn’t look at his face.  He had a similar costume to the one he’d worn in the pictures—a cape billowed behind him as he advanced towards the boys—but if I could just see his _face_ …

He spoke, and while Sean only understood the gist of what he was saying, I heard his voice clear as day.  I’d heard that voice before.  It really was him.  He congratulated Alan on how far he’d gotten, but reminded them that playtime was over.  He said the rest of us had been captured.

Alan held his homemade device behind his back and powered it up.  The teenager stopped retreating and shouted that Syndrome had already lost—backup was on its way.

With more hatred than I’d ever heard in any adult’s voice, Syndrome said, _the Incredibles_.  He knew exactly who Alan called for help.  And they’d never make it to the island.

There was rock behind Sean’s back.  He wanted to scream, to attack, but he felt like his jaw was wired shut.  I’d seen him get like this before, when he couldn’t get a word out, and it seemed like sounds hurt him.  Experiencing it was terrifying.  The standoff between the technopath and the villain in front of him was terrifying.  Sean just didn’t want that tension to snap.

Syndrome stopped maybe 6 feet from Alan.  The teenager held up his meager weapon, and the villain just sounded tired when he asked, do you really want to try this again?  After all I’ve done for you?

Alan swore he’d succeed this time, and attacked.

His first move was swift, but anyone could see it coming from a mile away.  That was a weakness he was working on in training.  Syndrome dodged the bolt of electricity easily.  Then they were fighting, moving with more ferocity than I thought possible.  Panic messed up Sean’s vision further.  He wanted to help—but the two adults were fighting, and he couldn’t get a scream in edgewise.

Alan was giving it his all but it was clear who the victor was going to be.  Syndrome was just toying with the teenager, dodging attacks, letting Alan run down the power in his homemade gadget and moving him back once in a while with concussion blasts.  When Alan got in a glancing blow—deflected by one of Syndrome’s gauntlets—the villain just pointed at him, surrounding him with cyan light, and threw him a couple yards.  Alan skidded to a stop on his back.  Sean couldn’t believe what just happened.

Alan came back for more, though, scrambling to his feet and charging.  Syndrome threw him again, a couple yards in another direction.  Enough to knock the wind out of the teen.  Alan was no serious threat, and Syndrome was just playing with him, like a cat and a mouse.

My little brother’s mouth was still wired shut.

Syndrome asked Alan if he was done rebelling yet.  Alan got up and kept up the attack.  He was protecting Sean, I noticed, trying to keep the fight away from the 7-year-old.  He got in another glancing blow.  Then Syndrome decided he was tired of the game, and threw Alan so he slid into a rock.

Alan was totally still.

The villain turned his attention to Sean, who was still frozen against a column of rock.  Sean looked away.  Good, you’ve gone nonverbal, the villain said.  Easier for me.

Back in the hangar, miles away, I decided I’d kill him if he laid a hand on Sean.

Sean just kept his eyes on Alan as the villain approached.  Alan was horribly still.  He moved imperceptibly at first—sure that Syndrome was past him—then shakily climbed to his knees.  Syndrome didn’t notice at all when the teen stretched a hand out towards him.  The villain was still focused on Sean.

Looks like you did a number on my favorite room, the villain was saying.  Let’s get you under lockdown before you do any more damage.

Suddenly one of Syndrome’s gauntlets sparked.

He looked down at it—I would’ve given anything to see his expression of surprise—and immediately zeroed in on the source of the disruption.  Alan lowered his hand, wearing a triumphant smile.

Syndrome pointed at him again, but the cyan light flickered and died as soon as it appeared.  The invention that gave him that power was wrecked.  But Alan had only taken out one of those inventions.  Syndrome quickly switched to his other hand, grabbed Alan, and THREW him into a column.

The teenager fell maybe twelve feet and lay totally still.  He wasn’t acting this time.

Only Syndrome and Sean left in the battle.  My little brother prayed for me, for Ivy, for anyone, to come help him.  But we were too far away.  Even Crystal, a force ever present in his mind, couldn’t help him.  The villain turned back to him again.

Then came a siren so loud, Ivy and I were almost jolted out of our hallucination.  It could be heard out in the Tidal Flats—probably around the whole island.

“Perimeter breach.” An electronic voice said.  “Perimeter breach.  Countermeasures deployed.”  It repeated the message over and over.

Back at the Tidal Flats, my brother and that villain listened to the message.  Sean just knew it meant something bad was happening.  Syndrome looked back at him and said, I have to go take care of that.  My kid’s royally screwed up.  Time for Project Aristeas.  He commanded Sean to stay put, and walked past him, I guessed in the direction of the perimeter.  Sean heard him take off again, and only after he was well and truly gone did my brother dare to run to Alan.

The transmission cut off there.  The presence in our minds withdrew suddenly.  Ivy and I looked at each other, both recovering from what just happened to our brains.  The alarm was still blaring.

“Perimeter breach.” My friend said.  “That’ll be the cavalry, coming to save the day.  Does Chrys have to do that, with the images?  A simple message would’ve sufficed!”

“That _was_ a little excessive…We have to go get Sean and Alan.” I said.

“Yeah, people will be wanting their planes soon.  We should bail.”

I turned back and scanned the ruined hangar.  They’d have to find more flying machines.  We just used a few for target practice.  Ivy’s brown eyes were scanning the horizon.  It seemed this hangar faced East.  I was about to ask her what she was looking for, when she pointed and said, “Look there!”

A dark speck out over the ocean was growing rapidly.  I’d never been so happy to see anything in my life.  We dared to watch it for a moment—maybe convincing ourselves it was real.  The jet got closer and closer, until I could almost make out the shape of it.

A faint cyan wave of light rose out of the water.  I almost blinked and missed it.  It seemed to fade away just before it reached the jet.

Then the jet fell out of the sky.


	17. Showtime

Jack—

Dash and I were on the edge of our seats as we approached the island.  Mom said we were getting close.  I’d never been to the island.  I was left out of the Incredible’s first adventure as a family.  I’d only ever seen the place through a grainy old picture, and my sibling’s descriptions.  Dash made it sound awesome.  As our jet approached Nomanisan, he strained to look over Mom’s shoulder.

“No missiles this time.  That’s good.” Vi said.

“No island either.”  Mom checked some dials.  “That’s weird, we should be getting a visual.”

“Missiles?” I asked.  Dash just looked over at me and made a ‘ka-boom!’ gesture.  I got the picture.

“We should be about five miles out…” Dad said, looking at the screen set between his seat and Mom’s.  It mapped out our location and the coordinates we set it to navigate to.  Plane GPS.  I asked the agents that gave us the jet, they can’t program it to give directions in Morgan Freeman’s voice.  Bummer.

“Are the coordinates right?” my sister asked.

“Triple checked with NSA records.  They’re right.”  Mom answered.  She fiddled with some controls on the GPS machine.  “It’s been on the fritz for a few miles, but we’re still on course.”

We sat in silence for a minute as the little plane on the screen crept closer to the little dot.  No one jumped up to point out the island on the horizon.  Getting bored, I ignored the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign and stood up, watching out the windshield with everyone else.  Nothing but the blue expanse of the ocean.  Boring, boring, boring.  I started to wonder what we’d do if it just wasn’t there.  How do you report an island stolen?

“Four miles out.” Dad announced.

“We should definitely have a visual.” Mom said, more to herself than to us.

The screen flickered.  Not just the screen, my peripheral vision told me, other instruments too.  Readings changed just slightly.  No one else noticed the change—they were too busy looking for a visual, I guessed—so it must’ve just been my eyes playing tricks on me.

What did Mom say, about those rumors of a haunted island?

“We can’t be more than three miles out.  Keep sharp.”  Mom started preparing the plane for a landing.  I felt the plane gently start to descend.

Still no visual. 

This mission was not off to a great start.

“Maybe we should circle around, maybe we missed something…” Mom said.

“The coordinates were right—we should be on top of it!” Dad said.

“Look, honey, we were off by a few degrees.”  Mom had noticed the navigator.  She checked other instruments to confirm, and flipped a few switches.  “We’ll just—“

“Look!” Dash cried.  He was pointing in front of the plane.

My brother’s eyes were sharper than ours (had to be, or he’d run into stuff), so we didn’t see anything at first.  Just more blue.  I took a step closer to the front of the plane, concentrating on a wavering in the air I was sure was just heat off the ocean.  The little patch of wavering air seemed to get bigger…and bigger…

Until suddenly, the whole windshield was full of roiling air, like something out of the Twilight Zone.  Before I could even gasp we’d broken through it, and suddenly, there was an island in front of us.

Just like that.  One second, nothing for miles.  Next second, a patch of land in the middle of the sapphire sea, covered in emerald forest, brighter and realer than I’d ever imagined.

I had time to take in just that one image.  A heartbeat after the island appeared, an unseen force rocked the plane from below.  It almost threw me off my feet.  Instruments beeped once.  Dials jumped and then fell to zero.  The GPS navigator’s screen flickered and died.  And that ambient sound that I’d gotten so used to, the muffled roar of the engines, that fell away to nothing.  In that stunning millisecond after the engines died I could almost hear wind blasting past our jet.  Then, I was flying.

Or, actually, our jet was falling out of the sky.

I only had time to suck in a breath—my body’s reaction to all the chaos that happened in such a short time.  Next thing I knew I was being slammed into a seat and the four-way seatbelt was tightening around me.  Dash, the Crimson Blur, had grabbed me and secured me.  His emergency maneuver kind of hurt—but that’s what I got for not listening to the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign.

The world was a hurricane of motion and noise.  I _could_ hear the wind howling past our jet as we fell almost straight down.  Mom was barking orders at Dad, both of them desperately trying to get the engines back on, trying to slow us down, trying _anything_.  The whole jet was dead!  Dash, at lightning speed, secured what he could and got his own seatbelt on.  Vi—the one kid smart enough to have kept her seatbelt on during our approach—was clawing at the buckle.  My panicked brain assumed it wasn’t secure, she was trying to fix it.  I’d have yelled to Dash to help her but there was no time.  No time for anything.

If I grabbed someone and teleported out, maybe I could save them.  I’d never teleported another human before, sure, and the fall into the water could still kill us, but I had to try.  I’d have to pick one of my family members to save.

There was no time to think.

Violet had gotten her seatbelt off—yes, she took it _off_ —and jumped towards the middle of the plane.  Then it felt like we’d been hit by another EMP wave.  I heard the metal of the plane groan.  Our fall out of the sky slowed, then stopped.  The momentum drove my head down and pushed all my hair into my face.  When that force let up enough I saw what Ultraviolet had done.  She was suspended in midair, her hair floating like she was underwater.  Through the windows I saw a shifting purple glow.  My sister, the incredible Super she was, had put a forcefield around the plane and stopped our fall.

Dash realized this the same time I did.  We looked at each other and laughed.  Studying the view outside the translucent forcefield, I saw we were still on course for the island, albeit a couple hundred feet lower.

Another EMP wave rocked the ship.  It lit up the forcefield, purple mixing with light blue, the light show moving around the plane before fading away.  Violet’s fields could absorb electricity and, I guess, whatever was coming at us from below.  We didn’t get to find out if the second wave did the same thing as the first.  It didn’t touch our plane.

The Incredijet endured another wave, and then another.  Invisible forces rocked our plane but didn’t divert us from our course.  Mom and Dad still worked at the engines—not even the appearance of the forcefield made them pause.  Their years of experience really showed.  Finally, after a tense minute of no EMP attacks, the plane slowly came back online.

It took a minute of starting and faltering, but the roar of the engines came back.  I’d never been happier to hear a sound.  (Except that one Christmas I thought I heard Santa on the roof.)  My ears popped—that’d be the pressure in our bubble changing—and when Vi dropped the forcefield, Dash and I were there to make sure she didn’t fall.

She made her way to the front of the plane and held onto the back of our parents’ chairs.

“That’s my girl.” I heard Mom say to her.  Vi smiled.

“What a lovely, warm welcome from Nomanisan.” Dash had to say.  “Like it so far, Jack-Jack?”

“I think my soul just evaporated.” I said honestly.  My brain was still as messed up as my hair.  I collapsed back into my chair and shakily tried to buckle my seatbelt.

“There’s definitely someone here.  It’s not over yet.” Violet said.

And it wasn’t over—as soon as she said that, an instrument beeped, indicating a fast-moving object coming from the left.

Violet was on that too.  As fast as she could, she threw up another forcefield—this one bigger—and the object collided with it at mach-something speeds.  All I saw of it was an explosion that whited out the left-hand windows.  We got just a second to breathe before another one came from the right.  The sound of it exploding was amazing.

That was it for the airborne attacks.  As the jet dipped low to land on a stretch of beach, I tried not to think we were being let in, led to something worse.  I straightened my suit and heard the landing gear deploy.

“Get ready, kids.” Dad said.  “It’s showtime.”


	18. Sentry

Ivy—

I tore through the forest.  My feet only touched the ground half of the time.  Above me, in bird of prey form, Opal cut through the sky.  We’d seen the plane touch down somewhere in the East.  The battle was almost over.  Thank Opal’s Baptist God, Alan’s Jewish God, and my ancestors, it was almost over.  Our heading was South, to find Sean and Alan, then East, to get the hell out.  O Captain my Captain was insistent—we’d get out of here with our friends, at all costs.

We’d already taken down two machines and a bunch of guards when one Velocipod, flying well in front of its pack, decided it wanted to get taken down too.  I only heard it approach from behind.  It was zooming well above the treetops.  Opal (or should I say the Opalescence?) heard it coming and performed a graceful aerial trick.  When it was right on her tail feathers, she swooped up, looped back around, and dove at the machine.  From my vantage point she just disappeared over the top of the mechanical thing.  A short, sharp yelp pierced the air, and the Velocipod dove to crash to the right of me.  Opal was airborne again, as a bird.

“Watch out!  That one’s friends want a turn!” I shouted up to the shapeshifter.  She turned her head to look over her wing, noticed the other flying machines, and sped up.

There was a flat area up ahead.  I aimed for that.  We’d take out the Velocipods together.

I reached the area, a place with just enough clearance to really get into it.  I was charged on adrenaline.  The ‘pods were closing in, I turned around and saw.  Summoning everything I had, I made trees shoot up their branches.  I caught two and wrecked them.  A third spun away to crash in the jungle.  Shots tore up the leaves around me.  Branches wove to make a protective shield—I felt bullets dig into their wood.  Two ‘pods were left.

I caught a glimpse of a big cat appearing on one.  Its pilot panicked and dove.  It, too, crashed into the forest, and a bird shot back up.  One more left for me.

More shots ripped up the forest.  The sound of Velocipod engines got closer and closer.  Too late, I looked between the branches of my shield, and saw the bladed thing coming right for me, in a crazy kamikaze move.  Oh jeez.

With no time to set up an offensive, I dove out of the way.  The machine slashed through the canopy.  I closed my eyes and threw everything I could at it, making the forest attack back.  The sound of blades fighting wood could probably be heard a mile away.  The roar died with a sudden BANG and I dared to look back up.  The Velocipod was trapped in a thick tangle of branches and vines.  I couldn’t even see most of the wrecked machine.

I gave a little victorious war cry and Opal answered in birdsong.  The sky was clear, we did it!

Then I heard something massive lumber up into the clearing.

Of course.  Of course, of course.

I turned around and came face-to-face with a Sentry.  It was a story tall, a smaller, more indestructible replica of a previous Omnidroid.  It stepped out of the thick trees and wasted no time in a staring contest.  It went right for me.

The best I could do was dodge.  A thick branch deflected a sharp claw, thrust in my direction.

“OPAL!  A little help here!” I screamed.

All my attacks glanced off the thing’s metal carapace.  Even thorns harder than bone wouldn’t penetrate it.  Opal swooped down and used her talons to tear at its electronic eyes.  Her attacks did nada too.  We needed to escape, or we needed a brilliant idea.  The thing just kept coming and coming.

On her third circle-around, O called out to me.

“Can’t you get a plant inside this thing?!” she yelled.

“There’s no openings!” I called back.

The Sentry—number 037—had me backed up against trees so thick and old I couldn’t wiggle between them.  As soon as it stabbed out a claw to grab me, I launched myself forward and up, my sneakers hitting the top of it as I jumped to safety.  I landed just on the other side of it.

“Throw me a seed!” Opal commanded.

I didn’t know what she was talking about, I just trusted her.  So I dug one out of my pocket and lifted myself high as I could.

She made one more swooping pass at the Sentry and caught the seed I threw to her.  I wasn’t paying attention to the machine in that split second.  One of its legs shot out and swept my supports out from under me.  Rookie mistake on my part.  I went crashing to the clearing floor, tearing up the knees and elbows of my uniform.

The Sentry got itself turned around.  Opal came to hover above me, staying still with the seed clutched in her talons.  I wasn’t quick enough to stop her.  The Sentry’s claw shot out, snatched her out of the air, and gripped her hard.  Her wings were caught in its metal grasp.  She couldn’t fly away if she wanted to.  A panel on the Sentry slid open, and it unceremoniously stuffed my friend inside.

I gasped and couldn’t move.  Sentry 037 seemed to forget I was there.  It turned and slowly started walking towards the base, with the seed still inside it.  The _seed_.

I got the message loud and clear.  Standing up, I poured everything I had into making that little seed grow.  I felt its roots dig deep into electronic guts and urged it to keep going, keep going, keep going!

The Sentry’s movements slowed.  The beginnings of branches were winding and stabbing, looking for sunlight.  The machine fell at the edge of the clearing.  After forever, I heard a grinding, groaning noise.  From the outside the Sentries might’ve been invincible, but from the inside?  Not so much.  A young shoot shattered the glass of its ‘eye’ and grew upwards.  (I was reminded of the movie Aliens.)  It didn’t stop there.  The seed belonged to a tree, and I didn’t stop until it was twice as tall as the Sentry was to begin with.

Finally, I made it stop.  There was a moment of tense stillness before a little mouse popped out of a root-hole and cried, “That was amazing!”

“I know, right?!  Is it dead?!” I shouted back.

As if answering my question, a leg moved.

“Just immobile!  Let’s go!”

I walked forward and the mouse jumped into my hand.  I decided to carry Opal for a while.  Normally she’d object to that, being the dignified grandma she is, but we were both battle weary, her even more than me.  The Sentry lifted a leg and started carving away at the roots coming from its joints.  Opal and I decided not to stick around.

Syndrome’s forces already knew where we were.  They were probably tracking us through the forest.  We went as fast as we could.  Only three ground soldiers tried to stop us on our way (all three strung up from trees by their ankles), so we made it to the Tidal Flats in no time at all.

We burst into the flat landscape and Opal wasted no time.  She jumped from my pocket, where she’d been riding in mouse form, and was human before she hit the ground.  She called her brother’s name and I called Alan’s.  A faint cry sounded from somewhere far away.

When we found the two boys, little Sean was doing his best to support a stooped-over Alan.  The teenager saw us first and straightened up.  Sean ran right into his sister’s arms.  The little thing was shaking.  Alan tried to sneakily wipe a dark smudge from the corner of his mouth.  I caught him and peppered him with questions, like are you all right, can you walk?

“I’m okay.” He said, sounding exactly NOT okay.  “Let’s get Chrys and Brandon…get out of here.”

Opal picked her little brother up and said, “We don’t know where they are.”

 _We’re separated, but heading East._ A little voice in my head said.  _Hurry up, my mentor’s looking for us._

“Track him.  Warn us if he’s getting close.” I said.

 _Alan’s bruised, he’s got a cracked rib.  Be careful_.  Crystal said.  Opal and I looked at said Alan—he was apparently left out of that message.

“Stay safe.” O Captain my Captain commanded.

 _We’re trying_. Crystal said.  Then her presence was gone.  It just occurred to me, she didn’t sound exactly fine either.  Her mind-voice was a little panicked.  I put that to the back of my mind.  We were almost free.

The going was slower with Al and Sean, but we headed through the jungle, away from the setting sun.  Opal went tiger again and Sean rode her back, clinging to her fur like a baby monkey.  He hadn’t made a sound since we found him.  O Captain said she could hear some kind of shuffle going on in the far East.  I said it must be the Incredibles, and even Alan brightened up.  We’d reached the flat land leading to the sea when a very battered Sentry 037 lumbered down a hill behind us.

We turned to face the beast, and Alan broke free from my support.  The thing (it was blinded but still dutifully doing its job, maybe relying on radar to track us or something) broke into a limping charge.  Alan walked right towards it.  All it took was his outstretched hand making contact with its cold metal carapace to bring it to a halt.  The teenager didn’t waste any time making it do tricks.  He reached his hand into a hole made by a tree root, reached past shredded metal up to his elbow, and grabbed something.  Sparks lit up the inside of the machine and rolled out of holes, down its metal skin.  Alan pulled his hand out and the thing collapsed—dead.

Later he described he was shutting down machines the whole time he and Sean were trekking through the forest.  No fun flying or fancy plant-magic, he said.  What he could do was pretty awesome too, I thought.  All I could do while he leaned on it and panted was stare at him.  I made a mental note to never tease him again, and went to help him away from the thing.  We still had to get going.  We were almost free.

A little psychic message tugged at my brain as soon as we got away from the thing.  I glanced at Opal.  She was getting it too.  We walked on and waited for Crystal (wherever she was, she was preoccupied but wanting our attention) to get to us.

Suddenly her voice rang out—clear and defeated.

 _Brandon’s been captured_ , she said.  _Syndrome got him._


	19. Ghost

Jack—

My feet hit sand just a millisecond before my brother’s did.  I totally won the race.  Not that he’d ever admit it, no, he always says he won, his super-fast vision caught his point-zero-zero-WHATEVER-second victory.  He’s a super sore loser, is what he is.

A spray of sand pelted me as he took off.  While I was still standing on the beach, he was already combing the tree line.  Mom dashed out of the jet after us and shouted a warning about land mines.  (The Dash was a great Superhero but he needed Mom’s reminders sometimes.  Listen to Mom, Mom is wise.)  Nothing was running out of the forest to attack us, so I took a look around.  It was a real scenic place—like a picture on a postcard.  The beach was balmy (whatever that means).  My brother materialized beside me and announced the immediate area was safe.

“From the air, we had a visual on combat zones all around the island.” Dad said, joining us with Vi.  “Our objective is search and rescue.  There’s six Supers here who need our help.  They’re our first priority, and they’re out in the jungle somewhere.”

“Probably scattered, injured, and disoriented.” Vi added.  “Approach with caution.”

“Right.  Jack-Jack?  You’re our scout.  Get up high and relay information.  Dash, Ultraviolet?  You go with him.  Don’t do anything else, don’t engage anything, and meet up with us in ten!”

“Your father and I are heading straight for the base.”  Mom jerked her thumb towards the tallest peak.  “Keep each other safe.”

“Got it!” I said.  The peak to the left seemed perfect, and by perfect I mean probably not swarming with security, so I pointed at it and said, “We’ll go there!”

Dash talked at a million miles an hour.  “Great!  YouguyscankeepViolet!  She’llonlyslowusdown!  ‘KAYbye!”  And we were off.

He grabbed me and next thing I knew, we were in the jungle.  I hate travelling like that, pulled along by my brother, but no time to yell at Dash.  He let me go and wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.

“Okay, babybrother!  You’llbejumpingthere!  _I’m_ following _you_!  NowGO!”  And he was off again.

I got some oxygen in my lungs and took off.

I’d rapid-fire jumped like that maybe three other times.  It was a wild ride and tired me out.  The jungle passed by me in a blur, stripes of sunlight and jewel green colors all mixing together.  I’d jump, fix my next target in my sight, and jump again, as fast as I could.  Dash—the one spot of crimson in the jungle—kept right on my tail.  He shouted warnings about wire traps.  Whoever was behind this knew we were coming, and knew taut wires were death to speedsters.  Whoever was behind this knew our powers.  Through agility (and maybe sheer dumb luck), Dash avoided the traps.  If anything spotted us, we were gone long before it could aim its weapons.

The forest floor got steeper and steeper.  Dash fell farther and farther behind.  His speed made inclines impossible, he’d have to zig-zag up the slope.  I stopped for a while (a while being three seconds) and heard Dash yell for me to keep going.  I looked straight up the mountain and picked a really high spot.  That’d do.  One last big jump, and I was up there, just barely balanced on a cliff face ledge.

“Whoa!” I yelped.

You ever notice how high places seem ten times higher when you’re actually up there, looking down?  Yeah.  I was almost as startled as those birds I scared away from their perch.

I couldn’t even see my brother.   I’d teleported to the edge of my range, and gotten an awesome view of the island.  I crouched down and leaned out as far as I dared.  Dad was right.  The closer I looked, the more evidence of battles I saw.  Black flying things were combing over the treetops.  Plumes of smoke were rising from holes in the canopy.  Crashed vehicles?  I looked as close as I could, and picked out knocked-over trees, trees bent weirdly, and trees just plain on fire.  Wait.  On fire?

To the north, almost past the big peak, there was an area that was a real mess.  I wondered if one of the Supers could control fire—or if the island’s staff just got tired of looking for them, and were smoking them out.  That was some info to report.  I stood up—

—And slipped off the ledge.

In a panic I jumped back down to where Dash was waiting.  I avoided a thirty-story fall, but my jumping doesn’t kill the momentum I’ve already picked up, so my landing was a little rough.  I stuck it like a champ, though, even landed on my feet!

“Nailed it.” I said quietly.

“Nice.  Seeanything?”

“Yep.  Bad news—things are on fire.  Unless things are normally on fire, then good news!  Things are on fire.” I said.

Dash apparently didn’t remember the island always being on fire.  “Where?” he quickly asked.

“North, not too far from where we landed.  Everything else is a mess, I didn’t see the Supers.”

“Good enough.  Let’sgo!”

 _I mean, I almost fell to my death there, but sure, no time to waste,_ I complained to myself.  Dash was already gone.

With a heavy sigh (no one understands my struggles), I jumped after him.  My brother took the lead this time.  I kept my eyes on the red blur.  We made better time going downhill.  Dash and I were almost out of the jungle, when he just…stopped.

I ran into him.  Or, rather, I _jumped_ into him, bouncing away from the space he occupied and landing on my butt.  Complaining loudly, I got back up, brushed dirt off the back of my suit, and demanded to know what gives.

A second of silence passed and I knew something was deathly wrong.  Dash is never still.  Be it an ADHD thing or a speedster thing, his, like, idling animation is always moving.  Always.  So when I saw him standing still—frozen, with no weapon or trap holding him like that—I knew something was very, very wrong.

He was staring at something.  Something out in the jungle.  I followed his line of sight and saw the most out-of-place thing ever.

A girl, in civilian clothes (a band shirt and pink jeans), was standing in this jungle, just staring back at my brother.  My first thought was she was one of the Supers.  Then I realized Dash knew her, and I knew her too.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Despite my parents’ efforts, her face was still all over the news the day after she died.  She was a bystander Violet and Dash couldn’t save the day a machine-generated tsunami threatened Municiberg.  She was dead, what was she doing on an island in the middle of the Pacific?  She had to be a trick, I realized.  Dash’s brain was still broken by the image of her.  He didn’t figure it out.  I thought he was over it, y’know, she was the first civilian he couldn’t save but it was so long ago….Guess I was wrong.

The fake civilian turned and disappeared into the jungle.  Before I could reach a hand out, or even form a syllable, Dash was gone, chasing after her.

I jumped after him blindly.  He didn’t get too far.  He was just standing in a spot with no girl in sight.

“She just disappeared…” he said to me.

“She wasn’t real!” I cried, before he could run off again.

Dash shook his head.  He realized what was up and turned back to me.  “Something’s going on here.  Let’sfindMomandDad.”  Never one to wait around, he took off again, and I followed.

It only took a second to find our parents—they didn’t get that far into the jungle, and our red suits are really, really easy to spot.  We fell into step with them (or I did.  Dash jumped ahead a bit.)

I explained what I saw as fast as I could.  From the air I could see what kind of enemies we’d be facing, what kind of flying machines and all.  I didn’t bring up the ghost image.  Dash could tell that story.  I got to the part about the fire and Mom sent Dad a panicked look.

“Vi went north to scout.” Mom said.  Oh, yeah, I wondered where she went after we ditched her…Oops.

“Shecan’tgetfar!  I’llfindher!” Dash yelled.  He disappeared again.  I could never get away with that, just vanishing before anyone could protest.  He didn’t get in trouble because he was a star Super, I decided.  That must be it.

“Good job, Jack-Jack….now I want you to get back to the plane.” Dad said between pants.

“Back to the plane?!  Why?!”

“It’s not safe out here!”

“Of course it’s not sa—“

“Jack, do as your father says!” Mom cut me off.  “We’ll have something for you to do after we know it’s safe!”

“I can hold my own!  Even with a villain!”

“Jack—“

Whatever Mom’s next argument was going to be, it was cut off by my brother showing up again, this time with a very windswept and very annoyed Ultraviolet in tow.  (She hated travelling by speedster, same as me.)  They stopped Mom, Dad, and I in our tracks.

“Toldyou!  She didn’t get far!” Dash started.

“Ambush!” Violet sucked down air and wheezed.  “There was a little kid, in the forest, he led me right into an ambush!  Only—there was no kid…”

“She took down the bad guys and turned back.” Dash finished for her.

Mom and Dad sent each other questioning looks.  They didn’t face that the first time on Nomanisan.  In fact, they didn’t have an explanation for that at all.

“We met a girl, coming to meet you.” I started quickly.  “Recognized her from another supervillain attack.  She wasn’t real either.  They’re all tricks, or—“

“PLEASE don’t say ghosts.” Violet cut me off.

“I was gonna say… _projections_.” I lied.

Mom and Dad spent a split second figuring this out.

“New plan.” Dad started.  “Dash and Violet, stick together.  Figure out if it’s real before following it.”

“How do we do that?  Poke it with a stick?” Violet asked.

“If you have to.” Mom said.  She was having none of the sass.

“It could be a Super.” Dash offered.  “You know, Tyto—wait, listen!”

He zipped a few yards up a small hill and watched intently for something in the forest.  He only watched a second before he took a step backwards, then another, and another.  We could hear what he was listening for.  Soon, they burst over the hill, not even stopping to tell Dash hi.

They were three kids…three kids and a tiger.  All scattered, but running in a generally eastern direction.  Three kids in what looked like uniforms.  The biggest one was limping, the girl with long black hair looked like she’d just run through a ton of vines, and the little red-haired one was running with a hand on the tiger’s side.  Did I mention there was a tiger?

Us Incredibles froze, not knowing if they were attacking or running to rescue, real or ghosts.  I bet our faces were priceless.  In seconds they’d be on us.

“Theheckisgoingon?!” Dash yelled.

The black-haired girl yelled back, not stopping, out of breath and trying to match his speed.  “Hi, we’re being chased!  Would like some help!  K-thnx!”

She actually said ‘k-thnx’.  They were real, okay, one mystery solved.

In a second we saw what they were running from.  Dash joined us in an instant as a whole squadron of flying blade-things crested the hill.  Lumbering up behind them came, like, a tank on metal legs.  It stopped to look down at us, and we jumped into fighting stances.  They wanted a fight?  We’d bring it to ‘em.

My family made short work of the squadron AND the robot.  I won’t bore you with the details, but there were machine guns firing (deflected by Vi’s fields and our suits), ships thrown into one another, explosions—ooh, Dad rushed in to battle that one big unmanned robot, it was TOUGH but he beat it down and found a weak spot.  Dash’s high-speed sabotage brought a bunch of flying blades down.  That’s where I came in, I grabbed a scrap of metal, jumped in behind the soldiers, and hit ‘em before they could blink.  Adrenaline pounded through my blood.  My mom and sister made a ferocious team, taking down those flying blades that Dash couldn’t reach.  Soon it came down to just Dad and the robot.  He aimed one good punch at the beat-up robot’s hull, and it stopped moving.

The Incredibles were really a small army, I thought, looking over the results of our fight.  The strange machine lay on its side in the middle of a small battlefield.  I dropped my weapon and looked for those kids from earlier.  They’d stopped at the edge of our fight to watch.  They still stood there, in awe.

My dad stood up tall and approached them.  “I’m Mr. Incredible.  Are you the ones that sent the message?”

The Asian girl found her voice and said, “Yeah, that was we—uh, us, Sir.”

I’ll never get used to people Sir-ing my dad.  People kinda freak out around us when we’re in masks.  Sometimes I wanna say _nah, you don’t have to roll out the worship wagon for my dad, last night he had a 20-minute freakout that the Municiberg Trojans lost a game, he’s not that cool._

“Maybe you can tell us what’s going on.” Mom walked to Dad’s side and said.

“It’s a long story, ma’am.” The tiger said.  There was a burst of blue light and a girl with wavy hair stood up where the animal had been.  “You wouldn’t believe what’s happened to us.”

The teenage guy walked past us, holding his side the whole time.  I watched him put a hand to the dead machine as the black-haired girl started talking.

“There’s more of those things headed our way, we gotta hurry!” She said breathlessly.  All the kids looked more than shell-shocked.

“The message said there were six of you—“ Dad started.

“Yeah, yeah!  Two of us are still out there!  Brandon, he’s been kidnapped, they’re somewhere that way—“ she pointed North, “—and Chrys is trying to get to him, you’ve gotta stop her.“

The teenager summed up her rambling in a calmer (more cynical) tone.  “Guy in charge of this mess took our fire-breather.  I’ll give you three guesses who your villain is.”  He nodded at the Omnidroid-esque machine.

That settled it for my parents, they knew who was behind all this.  They gave each other alarmed looks.  I swore I heard Dash tell Violet, “you owe me five bucks.”

“Get these kids to the jet.” Dad told Mom.

Quieter, Mom shot back, “What—you’re going to confront the villain while I take care of the kids?  I thought we were past this.  Bob, we don’t have time for a personal vendetta—“

“It’s not about that.  There are two kids out there, I’m going to get the one with fire powers.  When _all_ the kids are safe, you help me take down the villain.”

I almost rolled my eyes.  Dad was talking about me too, with the ‘ALL the kids’ thing.  They still thought…ugh.  I jumped a couple hundred yards into the forest, up a slope, searching for incoming bad guys.

A big flying machine was scanning the forest nearby.  Not good, not good, not good.  I jumped back and interrupted whatever discussion was going on.

“Incoming ship!  It’ll be here in five minutes, let’s go!” I yelled.

Mom and Dad seemed to have reached an agreement.  Mom walked to the kids, picked up the littlest one, and started for the jet, girls keeping pace behind her.  Violet was with the teenage guy.  She put his arm around her shoulders and started working on his chest with forcefields as he winced and limped along.  She could turn both of them invisible, if need be.  Dash poked at my side and shouted an order as he raced by.

“Come on, little dude, backtothejet!” he said.  He darted ahead of the group to clear the way.

Dad had turned away and headed into the forest.  He was headed towards the column of smoke, rising in the sapphire sky.  No way was I sitting this one out.  I didn’t come here for a vacation.  I could help.

“I’m helping Dad!  Stay safe!” I shouted to my family’s receding forms.

I saw my mom turn around.  I heard her yell “Jack, no!”.  But I was already gone.

At first I couldn’t find my dad, in the sea of green.  I made a bunch of jumps in the direction he’d gone.  Finally, my eyes found something in the forest.  It was the shoulder of someone in an orange costume, as they walked around a tree.  I had to be cautious.  I jumped close enough that I could see them.  Realizing who it was made my heart skip a beat.  The orange costume and singed black hair—it was the Atomizer, a villain Mom and Dad had defeated years ago.  But he was in jail!

Right, right, it was an illusion.  The fake Atomizer was walking along and talking to someone, he didn’t even see me.  I followed as close as I dared and caught the end of what he was saying.  I was stunned, his voice was perfect.  Even his Australian accent.

“…so after all this time, Mr. Incredible, you’ve finally come back for more.”

“Not from you, Atomizer.”  My dad wasn’t even phased by the villain, he knew Atomizer couldn’t be real.

The Atomizer—without any change in expression—stopped walking and fell behind.  Dad ignored him.  I saw the image disappear altogether.  Just gone.

Almost as quickly another figure appeared in the forest.  Dad’s path wound around trees and boulders.  When a Super in steel gray and navy blue appeared, Dad just went around him, too.

“Did you tell my girls where I went?” Gazerbeam asked.  “Why I had to leave them?”

“This kind of attack is low, even for a villain.” Was all Dad said.

I followed a parallel path, keeping silent, even though I desperately wanted to run ahead and attack those ghost images.  They scared me, and made me mad.

Another Super appeared on a rocky outcropping, high above my dad’s path.

“You never even told the world what you did 25 years ago!” she said with a laugh.  I recognized her ponytail, I think her name was Blazestone?  “There are _two_ Supervillains on this island.”

Dad had to respond to that one.  “He was dead, there was no need to!”

Blazestone sauntered away and disappeared from view.  Dad got his composure back, and kept walking.

I teleported ahead.  We were getting close.  There was evidence of a firefight scattered around.  Here a burn mark on a tree, there a hole in the forest canopy.  I went too far and got too close to the next ghost image, I was sure Dad would see me as he looked at the civilian in business-ey Golden-Age clothes.  If it wasn’t for the annoying voice I’d have never recognized this one.  He was the champion of anti-Super sentiments, the guy that started the lawsuits way back when.

“You created him, and then you killed him.  Bravo.” He said.

Dad didn’t even look at Mr. Sansweet, so I stayed hidden.

“Nothing I haven’t thought before…” my dad, the invincible Mr. Incredible, said to himself.

I really wanted to find the source of the fake images, and strangle it.  Just to test them I tried to touch Mr. Sansweet’s shoulder.  My hand went right through, and the whole image wavered, like a TV screen with a magnet stuck to it.  I pulled my hand out and the image disappeared outright.  Dad was past the image and me.  The attack was aimed at my dad, all the fake Supers and fake villains were ignoring me.

I heard Gazerbeam’s even-toned voice.  He was back, and walking in step with my dad, up ahead.

“He’s beaten you before.  Are you sure you want to do this, Incredible?  Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Gazerbeam.”  Dad had given in, he was talking to the image like it was really his old friend.  “This time I’ll protect my family.”

Fake Gazerbeam glanced my way, I swear.  Then he walked ahead of my dad, reached a thick bit of bush cover, and said, “I hope so.”  Then he bowed theatrically—indicating with an outstretched free hand that what my dad sought was right through there.

I swallowed.  Dad nodded at Gazerbeam.  He took a deep breath, I took a deep breath, and Dad said, “Showtime.”  He stepped through the plant cover and Gazerbeam disappeared.  I jumped to the spot they stood in a moment ago, and got a good view of everything on the other side.

We’d made our way to the burnt-out spot I’d seen in my earlier scouting.  It was a good-sized area, flat (thank god—I was tired of hills), with underbrush and obstacles burned away in some terrible fight.  Like I’d been taught, I analyzed the area for threats first.  No major, raging fires—that was a good thing.  No kid either.  Where was the boy with fire powers?  There were supposed to be two boys out in the jungle, Brandon and Chris.  There was no one, yet.

Dad stopped a couple yards into the area.  His vision, I saw from my hiding place, was fixed on a point just above the trees.  My eyes picked out a speck in the sky.  I jumped to a better spot, perched in a tree, where I had a view of the whole scene.  I was just in time to see the speck—actually a _person_ , flying—reach the area, swoop up, and drop to land.  It was him.  I’d only seen the guy in old news specials, but my dad’s eyes widened at the sight.  It was Syndrome, walking across the barren patch towards him—looking older but still cocky.

“Well, well, well.” Syndrome started.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 _Lame_.


	20. Trigger

Opal—

We headed for lower ground, winding through the forest.  Crystal was mysteriously gone from my mind.  While I didn’t like having a telepath watching my every thought, per se, she had been warning us of incoming threats, and I wondered where her attention was.  If she needed help.  The Incredibles had us—we were in good hands—but two of us were still missing, we were all still in danger, and my mom instincts were still on full blast.

I watched Mrs. Incredible stroke Sean’s back as we walked.  My legs felt like they were going to give out.  Ivy was at my side, as always, we supported each other when the terrain got rough.  The going was slow for Alan.  None of us had healing powers, and I cursed our luck there.

“We’re almost to the jet.” The Dash appeared and said.

“Thank God, my iPod needs to charge…” Ivy found the energy to mutter.

They spoke too soon.  A second later, we heard a great noise from far away.  Some battle was raging elsewhere in the forest.  We could guess who was involved.

Mrs. Incredible looked to the noise, her face unreadable.  At the end of our group Alan leaned against a tree, waving Ultraviolet off.  They talked quietly but insistently.  Alan told them to go on, go help, leave him there, he’d be fine.  The Incredibles were (obviously) not going to do that.  I took the moment to mentally call out to our telepath.  I was louder and more insistent than ever before.

 _Talk to me, talk to me!_ I called out.  _I need to know what’s happening over there!  I need to know where you are!_

It felt like an eternity before she answered.  She wouldn’t tell me where she was, but she was watching the showdown between the Superhero and villain with morbid, clinical curiosity, watching through a third party (one with a fairly normal brain).  Brandon wasn’t in the middle of the battle—in fact, she didn’t know where he was.  Syndrome stashed him somewhere.  ‘Speaking’ in thoughts and notions, she offered to show me what was happening.  She wasn’t trying to find Brandon at all.  She was just watching.  I thought saying yes would help us find the boy.  So I agreed.

It all came to me in condensed memory form.  Everything, from the beginning of the fight.

_“Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” The villain said, grinning._

_“Syndrome.” Mr. Incredible says, stepping back into a ready stance.  “I should’ve known you were still alive…How…?“_

_“Wouldn’t you like to know!”_

_The point-of-view Crystal was watching through took in the scene.  They leaned forward in their hiding place.  I finally got a good look at our captor.  He did look like the old pictures, it was him.  Red hair (shorter than before, and tinged with premature grey at the temples, I remembered Chrys saying “I was the reason child leashes were invented” about her childhood) was still styled straight up.  That black-and-white S across his chest was the same.  As was the cape.  The villain wore a crooked grin.  He and Mr. Incredible watched each other’s every move.  Best the point-of-view could see, on the villain’s face was a veneer of casual amusement, poorly masking the hatred in his cold blue eyes._

_Guy looks like he could snap at any moment, the point-of-view thought.  And no wonder.  Looks like everything’s going way south here.  Captives escaped, security scattered, it’s a mess._

_“How long’s it been?  Ten years, two months, and fourteen days?  I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”  The villain and the hero started slowly circling each other, falling into that old pattern, after all those years._

_“Forget you?  After what you did to my family?  No, Buddy, I’m just disappointed.  You’re still up to the same old tricks.”_

_The villain winced at the use of the deadname.  A motion barely perceptible—but still there.  The point-of-view knew his dad was trying to make the villain give up his plan, it had worked on other masterminds._

_“If you’re talking about the cape, some of us learn from our mistakes.”  The villain showed it off.  “This one’s tear-away.”_

_Mr. Incredible was going for a weapon, something to throw, the point-of-view noticed._

_“And I’m not the one that dragged my family into danger again.” Syndrome finished.  His tone implied he wasn’t worried—he knew some great threat would quickly subdue the Incredibles._

_“You won’t hurt them this time, Syndrome, you won’t even get a chance.” Mr. Incredible looked ready for anything.  “I’m going to make sure you’re put away.”_

_The villain just rolled his eyes.  “Come on, haven’t we done this before?”_

_Without warning, Syndrome pointed to something at the edge of the clearing—a downed tree—trapping it in blue light.  He brought it up and then slammed it down where Mr. Incredible had been just a second before._

_“It’s been ten years—I’m DYING for a good fight!  Come ON, “Mister Incredible”!  Show me you’ve still got it!”_

_That was it, the villain had snapped.  The tree was thrown back, easily dodged, and the fight was on.  Both men tore apart the landscape in their battle.  The point-of-view, who had been watching from the treeline, started to rapid-fire ‘jump’ from safe spot to safe spot, barely avoiding misfires and shrapnel.  They watched the battle as best they could.  As soon as it looked like Mr. Incredible had the upper hand, Syndrome laughed and disappeared._

_Disappeared completely—not like Ultraviolet did, but altogether at once, like the fake images.  At first the point-of-view thought he was just an image all along, but images didn’t move things.  They didn’t use zero point energy.  Reverse images, then?  Projecting nothing onto the space where something is?  The point-of-view wanted to yell this, but there was no time._

_Syndrome reappeared across the ruined landscape and Mr. Incredible didn’t waste any time.  He aimed another attack, this one going through the villain, who just disappeared.  An image._

_A phantom laugh rang through the air._

_“Same old tricks, huh?  Try this one on for size.”_

_Syndrome reappeared—for real this time—behind Mr. Incredible, and aimed a single shot of cyan light at the Superhero’s back.  The blast threw Mr. Incredible a few feet.  But Mr. Incredible got up from it (the villain let him), and the battle renewed, even more intense than before, with weaponized images and bombs in the mix._

_Fear started to grow in the point-of-view’s chest.  They were worried the two adults would tear each other apart.  Crystal was worried about that too._

The battle in my head started to line up with the sounds we heard through the forest. The images beamed to my brain changed from memory to live feed.  I snapped out of the trance I was in.  The whole fiasco only took 30 seconds in real time.  Images still took up half of my vision, but they were fading fast.  I forced myself back to reality because I knew where Crystal was.

I got the information as that fear bloomed in her, too.  It brought her back to reality a bit.  Her fingers tightened on the band she always wore, and while she was distracted (maybe too because she was so new to her powers), a bit of where she was seeped into our connection.  She knew she was farther North than the battle.  I could piece together were she was, through sensory information I felt.  She was somewhere higher.  Somewhere windy.  Like the top of a hill.  She was sitting down, her back pressed to a fallen log.  She could hear the battle more clearly than we could.  That narrowed down where she was, by a lot.

“I know where our friend is!” I blurted out.  All eyes were on me (my friends’ excited, the Incredibles’ concerned.)

I stumbled through what information I could give them.

“How do you know all this?” Mrs. Incredible asked.

Alan answered for me.  “Crystal’s a telepath.”

“Dad’s got the fire guy.  I can get Little Miss Everseer.” Dash said, really really quickly.

My tired brain noted, the Dash would be really good at the nicknames game.

Mrs. Incredible looked towards the battle again, then back at her son.  It would be really dangerous.

“The kid’s in trouble, Mom, I have to do _something_.” Dash pleaded.

“Fine, fine.  I trust you to be back soon!” Mrs. Incredible relented.

“That girl, she’s only half-Super, and she’s blind, so—so be careful with her!” Alan called out.

“I will!  ‘Kaythanks, bye!”  And the Dash was gone, whipping through the jungle.

“Boys.” Ultraviolet muttered.  I agreed—what _was_ it with the men in their family running off?

“Let’s go.  We’ve got to get these kids to safety.” Mrs. Incredible, Supermom Extraordinaire, said.  And we were off again.

I walked ahead with the masked woman and offered to take Sean.  She just put her free hand on my head and gently refused.

“You’ve been so brave, getting him and your friends this far.” She said with a smile.  “Let the professionals have a turn.”

I really missed someone talking to me in a motherly tone.  I just smiled back and nodded.  Sean muttered to himself, half-asleep in the jungle heat.  I fell back with Ivy, taking her hand again, and noticed how we were an odd little migration, a Moses-esque group of survivors walking towards freedom.  We were almost there, I could taste it.  The nightmare was almost over.

A huge metal creature roared over the canopy—reminding me that we weren’t free yet.  Ultraviolet threw up a shield just as it rained shots down on us.  A Vulture was hovering just over our group.  I looked to Sean, who was frozen clinging to Mrs. Incredible, and Ivy, who was deep in concentration trying to make even a leaf move.  Us Nomanisan kids were out of firepower, but the professionals had a plan.

“Mom, I’m gonna blast it but I need to drop the shield first!” Ultraviolet shouted over the noise.

Mrs. Incredible understood immediately.  She set my brother down with us and threw herself—stretched herself—over the crouching lot of us.  I got to see Violet forming a small forcefield, different from the rest, more red, before my line of sight was blocked.  There was just a second where bullets bounced off of Mrs. Incredible’s suit.  Then the sound of an explosion happened.  When Mrs. Incredible un-stretched herself I caught sight of the Vulture veering off, one engine smoking and destroyed.

“Remind me to write Edna a thank-you when we get back.” Mrs. I said.  She picked up Sean again and, with a quick “Time to go!”, we were off running again.

More machines followed the Vulture.  Ones that were quick enough to catch up were picked off.  The short run to the beach felt like it took forever, but seeing that jet waiting on the beach, ready to take us home, that was worth all the horror of the past few hours.

Ivy and I ran hand-in-hand towards the machine.  We’d come out a bit north of the landing spot.  We were almost—almost—to the safety of the Incredijet when something else came out of the forest.

Hearing it, Ultraviolet turned around and headed back to it.  What stumbled out of the forest wasn’t an enemy, but the Dash, barely holding onto a twelve-year-old girl that was fighting like an animal to get away.  I’d never seen Crystal lose her composure like that.  Whatever was wrong, maybe I could calm her down?  I walked closer and started hearing what she was screaming.

“Your dad—he’s going to get killed—Secret weapons, there’s—Out in the jungle—LET ME GO—I have to get to him, you are NOT going to ruin my plans!  I have to—“

“My dad’s got your friend, jeez!” the Dash tried to tell her.

“No, you don’t understand—“

“Hold still!  I’m trying to help!”

Crystal got turned around in his grip, still kicking.  She reached a hand up and touched his face.  Suddenly the Dash stumbled in the sand.  He was still holding onto the girl, but she had turned away from him, towards the sister that was running in to help.  Ultraviolet’s steps grew slower…stiffer…more uncontrolled, until she stopped completely, just standing in front of her struggling little brother.  Crystal held up a hand and made a motion.  Ultraviolet copied it, making a forcefield—a thin one between her brother and the girl—and in a single violent motion, ripped Dash away from the girl, throwing him down the beach a good 20 feet.  He just rolled over where he lay, hands over his eyes.

I watched Crystal climb to her feet and straighten out her shirt.  I was frozen by what just happened.  Crystal totally ignored us, the jet, and rescue.  She raised her hand again and Ultraviolet copied that.  The young woman’s form flickered out, going invisible and coming back quickly.  A ball of reddish light—more like a transparent sun than a purple forcefield—grew over one of Ultraviolet’s palms.  Chrys made a motion and Ultraviolet followed it.  The ball flew into the forest and an explosion sent sand whipping around our ankles, out on the beach.

Crystal grinned.  “There’s your trigger.” She said.  Ultraviolet put her arms back to her sides and stood like a robot waiting for orders.  Crystal just worked her bracelet off.  She moved her thumb over one of the buttons, thinking over what she was about to do.

“You want me?  You want my powers?” she said to the forest.  “THEN COME GET ME.”

And she pressed the button.

From my vantage point I could hear the little device beep twice.  She held it firmly.  Ultraviolet went invisible, all I could see were her footprints in the sand.  Crystal and her homing device led the way, and they both walked back into the forest.


	21. Endgame

Jack—

 _Oh God, oh jeez, oh crap_ , was all I could think as I dodged attack after attack.

I tried to stay close enough that I could see them fighting.  I would’ve jumped in to help—hell, even a DISTRACTION would have been useful—but I couldn’t find a place to jump in, I’d have been in the way of some attack or other.  I was kinda panicking.  What could I do?

They’d both gotten hits in—bruised ribs here, cracked shoulder there.  I’d seen enough fights to know it was time to end it.  Dad and Syndrome stopped for just a split second to catch their breath, standing across from each other with eyes locked, when a weird sound finally caught everyone’s attention.  I could hear it from my vantage point.  A beeping, like….a homing beacon?

As soon as Syndrome heard it, he looked down at one of his cuffs.  A look crossed his face for a millisecond, just a millisecond.  Like, recognition, and maybe relief.  He looked back at Dad, suddenly all casual again.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta cut our reunion short.  It’s been…disappointing, as always.”

“What?” Dad said.  A villain leaving in the middle of a battle?  That was new, even for Mr. Incredible.

 _Rude!_   I wanted to yell.

“I’ll leave you to the Sentries now.  The Sentries and the lava pits.”  With a final grin, Syndrome took off again, too fast for Dad or me to do anything.

The forest at the far side of the clearing started to rustle.  Robots started to emerge from all corners of the area (I counted 6 to start with).  They moved to cut off Dad’s escape routes.  I knew I had to get someone—Mom, Vi, Dash, anyone—to help.  I got out of there as fast as I could, just as the machines were starting to close in.

I made it out to the beach in record time.  The first person I found, weirdly enough, was Dash, on his own, crouched in the sand.

“Dad’s in trouble, send someone to help.  What happened to you?” I blurted out.

Dash kept rubbing his eyes under his goggles.  Something wild had gone down.  “Girl got away, went back into the forest.  Jack, I can’t SEE…”

I figured he probably got sand in his goggles.  That stuff gets everywhere, and Dash could be a drama queen when he wanted.

“You fix that, I’ll get the girl!” I said.  Then I was gone.  Dash yelled something to me just as I was jumping away, but I didn’t hear it.  Oh well.

My message was delivered.  Mom, Vi, and Dash, they could handle the Dad situation.  Meanwhile one of those kids was out in the jungle, and there was a villain at large.  The least I could do was bring the girl back safe.  (I thought the two missing kids were named Brandon and Chris…?  Maybe I mis-heard.)

All the fighting and jumping from earlier today had worn me down, but I was determined.  Like, Queen-song-playing-in-my-head determined.  I got this.  I Got this, with a capital G.

I was so focused on capital G’s and Freddie Mercury’s angelic voice that I wasn’t really watching where I was going.  I’d teleported to a new spot, taken a step, and bumped into someone.  A split second later that someone smacked me in the face.

I stumbled backwards, shocked out of “Don’t Stop Me Now”’s chorus, fists up and ready to defend myself.  Imagine my shock when I saw just a girl—a girl my age, with wild white hair.  She looked as shocked as me.

We looked at each other.  She had blue eyes like mine, I noticed.  Slowly she straightened up, put her fists down, and smoothed out her shirt.

“Christ, you came out of _nowhere_.  Don’t do that!” She scolded me.

I was so caught off-guard (she didn’t even ask who I was) that I just said, “Oh, uh, my bad….Wait, you hit me!”

“Sorry about that.  Strange guy just bumps into me, what am I supposed to do?” She asked, and kept walking deeper into the forest.

I got a good look at the situation.  She seemed to be alone.  She was wearing the same uniform as the other kids, ruffled and battle scarred and everything.  On her wrist was this white band—I wondered if it was a weapon.  She walked confidently, hardly looking down at all.  The look on her face was…a little unhinged, if I was honest with myself.  The girl looked more determined than me.  If I was totally honest I’d say she’d been awake for a few days.  There were freckles scattered across her nose.  Some romantic, lizard-ey, teenage part of my brain chimed in _, She’s kinda cute_.  I ignored that and focused on my mission.

“I’m glad you know self-defense and all, but can we go now?  I’m here to rescue you.” I told her.

“No.” She said simply.

“No?”

“There are things going on that you don’t understand.”  The girl kept walking, I hurried to keep up with her.  “There are weapons on this island you don’t know about.  You need my help.”

“Uh, crazy-stupid-wonderful idea, you can help from the Incredijet!  It’s not far from here—“ I started.

Someone else appeared beside us.  Violet, my sister—she’d been with us the whole time.

“She knows how to stop Syndrome, Jack-Jack.” Vi said.  I studied her face.  She looked convinced of this.

We should have gotten the girl back to Mom, I knew.  I should’ve protested all this.  But if Violet was sure we’d succeed…And Vi was my superior in the field…

“Okay, if this is our best shot…” I said quietly.

Vi smiled and disappeared again.  The girl (I still didn’t know her name) smiled too, and said with the most confidence, “It is.”  She started walking again.

“Hey, what do they call you?” I asked the girl.

“I don’t know yet.”

“No, I mean what’s your name?”

She gave me a strange look, like she was conflicted about using it.  Someone else answered from in front of us, in the forest.

“Crystal Deirdre Averry!”

The girl stiffened.  For a moment she looked terrified.  I turned around and saw who the voice belonged to—a woman, with brown hair in a ponytail draped over her shoulder, dressed in civilian clothes.

“What are you doing out here?  It’s not safe, get back inside.” The woman said, in a warm and concerned tone.  I’d go so far as to say, a motherly tone.

I turned back to the girl to see her reaction.  She was practically shaking, caught between horrified and furious.

“You know this image?” I asked her.

“…It’s just a hologram.  Don’t listen to it.  It’s just Delta.” She said.  No idea what that last thing meant.

I walked up to the image and swiped a hand through it.  A hologram, that’s all it was.  It flickered and went out.  The girl, Crystal (Chrys for short—not Chris) had her eyes closed.  She centered herself and put on a determined face again.  Without a word to me or Violet, she kept walking, this time playing with the bracelet on her wrist and talking to herself.

“Murderer….I can’t believe he used her voice, he’d use her voice against me…”

I felt like I had to say something.  “Listen, those things are just like ghosts, okay?  They aren’t real.”

“I know that!” she snapped, and I feared I said the wrong thing.

“They—they can’t hurt you.” I tried again.

She just laughed.  “That’s exactly what that weapon, Project Aristeas, was designed to do!  Psychological warfare.  I should know, I suggested it when I was seven.  You’d better know what you’re walking into, Jack Parr.  Syndrome’s had ten years to think about what your family did to him, a whole decade to come up with new ways to hurt you.  Do you know what a near-death experience like that does to a person, psychologically?  It’s not pretty!”

I might’ve taken a step back.  Where was her anger coming from?  What had she seen?

“…I haven’t seen anything, actually.”

Oops, I didn’t know I said that out loud…

When she blinked, the deep blue of her eyes faded away, replaced with cataract-white.

 _I haven’t seen anything in nine years_.  It was her voice, but NOT her voice—she didn’t speak at all.  It was in my head, like a thought-voice.  Little bits of information popped into my head.  There was something about being half-Super, and bits about what Syndrome’s weapons could do.  I got a couple images from someone else’s brain too—she knew where the last kid, Brandon, was stashed.  That’s where she was headed, with or without me.  The endgame we were headed for would see us captured or Syndrome taken down. _Knowing all this, you’re still with me?  I need to know you’re with me.  I’m going to need a little help ending this nightmare._

I needed a split second to process all the new information.  She could do mind-to-mind stuff.  Coolio.  She also couldn’t see, which posed a number of questions in itself.  Finally she was giving me some good info on her plan!  I assumed she’d already given Violet this talk.  And Violet agreed.  No argument, I had to help her.

 _I’m game if you are_. I said in my head.

Crystal grinned, and her eyes were back to normal.  “Good, we’re getting close.” She told me.

“Close to where the kid’s stashed?” I asked.  God, we’d been hiking _forever_.  Did I mention I was sick of hills?

“Yes.”  She let slip, in her mind, that it was somewhere she used to play as a little kid.  She didn’t know I knew.  One of her last sighted memories was a blur of red and blue (a sunset, I decoded) from that place.  Or…a thousand feet above that place.  She was a mess inside, I didn’t have to read minds to see that.  I thought (or she believed) what we were about to do would fix what was happening in her head.  We both heard Violet scout up in front of us.  The rest of the walk was in silence.  The holograms, silent and haunting, watched us on our way.  I stayed as close to her as I could.

Our route led us onto a footpath used by patrols.  We followed that up to a flat place overlooking a good part of the island.  Part of it was enclosed by the sheer walls of the island’s main peak.  The un-walled sides didn’t have a fatal drop, thank God, but a tumble off of them wouldn’t be fun.  We were on the one path that connected to the place.  Our entrance was hidden by plants—I used the cover to take a look around, but from the other side it’d look like there was no escape.  I didn’t see a kid out in the open—but he could’ve been hiding near the back.

Taking in the scenery quickly, I couldn’t help thinking I’d traded in one battle arena for another….

One major difference—Syndrome was waiting for us here.

Before I could stop her, the girl walked out to meet him.

“Crystal, Crystal, Crystal…look what you’ve done now.”  I heard the villain chide her, in a low voice that failed to mask all that hatred.

I almost face-palmed.  Of course she would go out to face a homicidal maniac, alone!  How did I not see that coming?  Better question—where’d Violet go?

That homing-beacon beeping stopped when Syndrome pressed a button on his cuff.  Crystal worked that band of hers off and tossed it into the forest below.

“I’m just following in your footsteps…” the girl said, “…and ruining everything, _Mentor_.”

Syndrome’s eyes widened in shock.  Mine did too.  I could see the villain was just barely—BARELY—keeping himself from back-handing the girl off the mountain.  I would’ve just grabbed her and gotten the hell out of there, but…I’d never teleported another human before.  I didn’t know if I could do it, or if it could kill the person, or what.  So Crystal just stood there, in front of the guy that wiped out a whole generation of Supers, smiling like she was just meeting an old friend.

Let this be a lesson.  Always make sure your friends aren’t suicidal before following them on missions.

“…Fine, I’ll cave.  What’s this all about?  You’ve arranged quite a show, I’m almost impressed.” The villain admitted.

Crystal just fake-laughed.  “Like you don’t know!  I thought you knew everything!”

“If this is about your sight—“

“NO!”  That touched a nerve.  “No, it’s not about that _particular_ failure.”

“Then why the temper-tantrum?”

“You’ve created something ELSE you can’t control.”

She was talking about herself, I guessed, the Omnidroid and herself.  (There was something terribly cold and steely in her voice.)  If she was going to say something else, she didn’t get the chance.  Syndrome was having none of the sass.  Without warning she was caught in a beam of light, and held two feet off the ground for good measure.

“You’re going inside while I clean up out here, Gadget!  Understand me?!”

I had to do something, so I went with the first (and the stupidest) thing my brain came up with.  I teleported right into the beam of light, between the bad guy and Crystal.

I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t breathe.  It was like the time Dash buried me up to my neck in sand at the beach and left me—only a thousand times worse.  I could see outside through a shifting haze of white-blue, and Syndrome was looking at me with the best “what the hap is frickening?” expression.

Crystal was free, I heard her drop to the ground behind me.  Quick as she could she moved (I hoped she was getting to cover) and one of Violet’s red forcefields streaked across my line of sight.  It just barely missed the beam, but her red forcefields explode, so accuracy isn’t always necessary.  It touched the ground a couple yards to the left and blew up.

The beam of light let me go for a split second.  It was enough for me to jump away.  I was back by Crystal’s side, and Syndrome turned the weapon to my sister.  She didn’t get the courtesy of the full beam.  The villain fired wild shots in the direction that forcefield had come from.  The third one hit her (I don’t know why she didn’t move, it was like her common sense or survival instinct was shut off or something).  She went visible for just a sec as it knocked her flat on her back.  Syndrome turned on me, pointing with the hand that didn’t seem to have that weapon on it.

“Oh, you’re just here to ruin my life!”

“What did I do?!” I shouted, more to Chrys than the villain.

The fight was back on.  Crystal pushed me out of the way just before a blue shot sailed between us.  I jumped to the left of the circle arena.  At least I could play the distraction, keep him away from the girl.  I’d barely jumped when I was caught in that beam again.  This time I wasn’t let go.

“I’m not just blindly obeying you!  Never again!” I heard Crystal yell.

I couldn’t even look towards the action, my field of vision wasn’t facing the right direction.  I could see plants moving at the edge of the arena.  Velociraptors?  No, the kid, that kid must’ve been hiding back there.  I could get to him if I wasn’t trapped.  The seconds dragged on and on, fear made me believe I was running out of air way too fast.  I wasn’t claustrophobic, but I’d never been so helpless before, if only I could jump out—

Wait, I hadn’t tried just teleporting away.  Dash would’ve smacked my forehead and said “Duh!”.  I saw an empty spot a few feet in front of me and concentrated on it.  Suddenly—

I was free.

Sweet, sweet oxygen!  I turned around, got grabbed by the beam again, and was thrown across the arena, straight into a still-invisible Violet.

“If that’s how you want to play.” Syndrome said in a scary, scary voice.

Vi’s bony elbow had caught me in the side of the head, jeez that hurt.  I dragged myself off my sister and saw the villain had taken off a glove.  Why…?  I looked past him and saw that kid (I knew it was the one we’d been after because he couldn’t have been 10 years old and he was wearing the same uniform) barely clinging to the cover the plants provided.  He was looking from the villain to the path.  He was going to make a break for it!

I tried to get my legs under me.  But I wasn’t quick enough.  Not knowing he’d been spotted, the kid dashed for safety.  All Syndrome had to do was lunge for him and catch him by the back of the jacket.  Brandon was caught.

Vi pushed me out of her way, I felt her as she darted past.  She went visible as she went straight for the villain.  Her attack was cut short by a wall of flames appearing out of nowhere—she barely threw up a shield in time to save the three of us.  I still felt the heat and heard the roar.

When the fire died out, it was deathly still for a moment.  Brandon was frozen with his hands on his collar, trying to get free.  He hadn’t done that.  Who had?

The answer was simple.  Syndrome’s free hand was still stretched towards Violet, and he was wearing an evil, triumphant look on his face.

Villains with powers.  About as lovely a combination as sharks and tornadoes.

The first sound we heard after the roar of flames was Crystal’s unhinged laughter.

“I was right!” she cried.  “You do have—That is RICH—“

Syndrome’s look got a little less triumphant.

“—Even after you were rejected—your own father—oh man!”

Yeah, that struck a nerve with the villain.  He straightened up and looked about as ticked off as anyone I’ve ever seen.

 _Can you NOT try to die?  For like, five minutes, please?_ I wanted to scream at the girl.

“Crystal Averry, you’re going inside, or the friends I picked up for you are going to die!”

The white-haired girl pretended to think about this.  Key word being ‘pretended’.

“Hmm….no.” She said.  And then she was back to grinning, absolutely ecstatic, doing impressions of two people I’d never heard.  “Tell me if this sounds familiar—‘Why?  Why SHOULD I stick around?  The kid’s not even gonna have powers!’ ‘Don’t you DARE hold that against him—‘”

Three rapid-fire shots of blue light hit the ground, very near her.  Whatever that beam was, it packed a punch.  There were holes blown in the ground by her shoes.  Warning shots.  Angry warning shots.  I’d have called foul, but Jesus on a skateboard, what was that girl doing?!  Even I knew not to take it that far with a villain.  That was more than banter, or even egging a villain on, that was psychological warfare…

She just looked down at the scorched ground.  “Cute.  Now let me show you how REAL Supers fight!”

A red forcefield the size of a softball left Violet’s hand, barely missing Syndrome.  Vi’s attack caught me off guard, something that never happened when I was fighting with my sister.  She had rules for battle.  Patterns.  Her shot could’ve hit Brandon.  He was certainly in range of the explosion that followed it.  Did I see Crystal make the same motion Violet did…?

Vi went invisible as Syndrome’s counter-attack sent up a wall of flames where she stood.  I didn’t know if she got out of the way.  Smoke was suddenly drifting in the air, from both Syndrome’s and Violet’s attacks.  That would only make the chaos worse.

Attack after attack split the silence.  Red flames were mixed in with blue beams, cutting through the fog.  I was worried Chrys would get hit, but she stood confident and still, like she knew she wouldn’t.  All the action was aimed at my sister.  She was fighting like a wildcat.  It was hard to tell what damage was caused by who…

Brandon, he was caught at the center of the mess.  He was in harm’s way.  But what could I do?  I kept jumping around the edge of the fight, helpless again, watching the trapped boy.  His terrified eyes caught mine.  I was just about to jump in and try to pull him away, when a single blue beam caught my sister in the shoulder.  She fell back about ten feet from where she’d stood.

“Last chance, Gadget!” the villain yelled to the girl.  “Tell me what this is all about, and walk away.”

When Crystal answered, her voice was soft, barely above a normal speaking tone, and full of something vulnerable.

“Why did you kill my mother?” She asked.

There was a hint of something that crossed Syndrome’s face.  Recognition.

“What?” He asked back, in the same soft tone.  If I didn’t know him to be a liar, I’d say he really didn’t know what she was talking about.

Crystal’s voice broke the silence, rose into a scream.

“I want to know WHY YOU KILLED MY MOM!”

She raised both her hands above her head.  Violet, who’d pushed herself up into a sitting position, did the same thing.  A reddish forcefield appeared in her hands, and when Crystal made a motion, Violet threw the weapon.  Syndrome barely dodged it.  My sister’s eyes, they were—why hadn’t I noticed this before?—there was something not right with her eyes—

“I WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU KILLED MY MOM!” Crystal screamed again.

Suddenly Violet was on her feet, attacking again. 

The villain had really backed himself into a corner, trying to hold onto Brandon and keep Violet at bay at the same time.  But he managed.  I kept looking for an opening to jump in and grab the innocent kid.  Maybe that would break whatever connection Syndrome had with Brandon’s power.  My specialty was hostage rescue, after all—but there was no opening!

Crystal started taking steps forward.  “Here’s how it’s gonna go down, Mentor!  You’re not just going to tell me why you killed her!  You’re gonna take off your mask, and I’m gonna RIP the memories from your brain!  I want us BOTH to re-live that day!  And then, one way or another, I’m going to kill you mySELF!  I don’t care how!”

Another red forcefield exploded, just in front of the villain and his hostage, to emphasize this.

Violet, my sister, she wasn’t doing that—she wasn’t in control of her power—someone else was using her!

I looked at the white-haired girl.  Her face was a mask of rage.  She looked like a creature made of steel and fire just then, a thing designed to kill.

Superheroes, we…we don’t kill villains.  We don’t kill.  I didn’t care who did what to who, it wasn’t right, what she was going to do, it wasn’t right…

It suddenly clicked for me.  The message, summoning us, the fighting, Dash, the homing beacon…it was all her, it all led to this, her endgame.  We’d all been manipulated.  All of us.  I had to do something, I had to stop it.

Syndrome caught Violet in that beam.  Just barely.  There was a pause in their battle, enough time for the villain to try to take control of the situation again.

“No, here’s what YOU’RE going to do!” He commanded the girl.  “You’re going to give this up.  Then you’re going to hand over your power.  You’re going to go inside, I’m going to clean up the mess you’ve made here, and then I’m going to decide what to do with you!”

“Or WHAT?  You’re gonna burn me?”

“No…I’m going to burn HIM.”  Syndrome pulled Brandon to his feet, by the back of his collar.

Chrys and the villain glared at each other, twin expressions of rage.

I had to do something.  I had to teleport Brandon out of there.

“I’m going to start counting, you better make up your mind.” Syndrome warned.

More glares.

“Three…”

I got into position.  No one was watching me.  No one but Brandon, the boy whose eyes were frantically trying to send me some message.  He saw me and subtly shook his head no.

“Two…”

Oh man, I’d never teleported a human before, oh man, oh man…No time to think of what-ifs.

“One.”

With a flick of the wrist, Violet was carelessly thrown away.  Brandon was thrown forward, he landed prone in the middle of the killing floor.  Time seemed to slow down.  I saw Syndrome with both hands in front of him, aimed at the boy.  I sprung Brandon’s way.

Just as my foot left the floor, I jumped right to Brandon.  I grabbed him and we rolled away from the blast, I could feel the scorching heat on my back, and suddenly—

There was sand everywhere.  I accidentally let go of Brandon and my momentum rolled me away from him.  Sheesh, that was a far jump, we made it all the way to the beach.  I sat up so quick my head was spinning.  Brandon, was he alive?

Yes—he scrambled to his hands and knees, shocked, scared, but alive.  I’d done it!

I crawled to him as fast as I could.  “Are you okay?” I asked.  (Maybe my voice was breaking a little.)

“I’m—I’m fine.  I’m fireproof!” Brandon said.  “You shoulda saved Crystal!”

I stood up (my knees were still a little shaky), trying to show that I was brave.  “I’ll save her.” I replied.

We heard a shout from down the beach.  I looked the way it was coming from.  A ways down the beach sat the Incredijet, and racing towards us were two figures that looked like Mom and Dad.  Dad—he was okay!

“They’ve got you.  I’ll be right back.” I told Brandon.  I had the coordinates in my head, and in a second, I was back in the arena.

I’d only been gone a second but the fight had ramped up.  The spot I’d jumped to was half-gone.  One of my feet landed over nothing, and I almost slipped into the tiny ravine made when a stray blast split rock off from the cliffside.

Crystal had gotten closer, she was almost halfway across the arena.  Violet (I knew then she was only a puppet) was throwing everything she had at the villain, while Chrys was just yelling everything she could.  Her voice was rising over the tremendous sound of the battle.  She was bordering on hysterics.

“Why?!  She was safe at home, your fight was OVER!  Why?!”

Syndrome probably wasn’t listening.  My interference hadn’t made a difference, he still had use of Brandon’s power, but Ultraviolet was an amazing Super.  She kept attacking and attacking, shielding herself from counter-strikes, going invisible and moving to another spot.  Syndrome wouldn’t attack the puppet-master.  He was losing.

I jumped right in front of Chrys, and held onto her shoulders, trying to get through whatever rage had a hold on her.

“This isn’t right, you’ve gotta stop—“

She moved my hands and stepped past me.  She couldn’t see me.  Like I wasn’t even there.

“Crystal!” I shouted.

Nothing again.

I wanted to shake her, jump her out of there, SOMETHING.  But when I moved towards her, suddenly I was immobile.  I couldn’t process why.  Syndrome had found a chance to grab me with that beam.  I was thrown to the ground, across the arena, away from Crystal.  There was no air in my lungs and my back hurt…

“Is it because she survived the Omnidroid?!” I heard Crystal shout.

All I could do was roll over and watch.  One of Violet’s fields exploded in front of Syndrome’s chest, throwing him back, but not knocking him off his feet. 

“Is it because she escaped from you?!”

Violet didn’t stop the attack, oh no.  She must’ve been bruised and exhausted, but she didn’t stop.  Like the Terminator.  Syndrome quickly recovered and started dealing death-blows to my sister.  Just feet away from him, Violet blocked all the attacks (Syndrome was getting desperate, his moves were easy to see coming), countering with her own equally violent ones.

“Why did she have to die?!  I need to know!”

I tried to push myself up, but I was still struggling to breathe.  I couldn’t focus.  Thoughts that weren’t mine were swirling in my head, suffocating me, tearing me apart.  A psychic maelstrom. 

 _Murderer_ , a child’s voice cried.

Two red forcefields grew in Violet’s hands.  She threw one at the sheer, rocky ground just in front of Syndrome.  Shrapnel—like bullets—pierced the air.  The suit Syndrome was wearing (and his arms, thrown up on instinct to protect his face) took most of the damage.  The second forcefield hit him square in the chest.

_Murderer._

The blast (I could feel the shockwave from where I lay) knocked the villain back a good couple of yards.  I lost him for a second.  I wasn’t sure he was still alive.

“Take off the mask!” Crystal screamed.

I scraped together enough of myself, enough will, to beg her, _Don’t do this_.

The wild-haired girl just crossed the distance between her and her mentor.  Violet closed the distance too.  The voice screaming in her head was way louder than me.

_Murderer!_

Syndrome tried to climb to his feet, but the girl was there with Violet, hands raised to attack.  In Violet’s palms another red forcefield was already growing.  Syndrome stopped, down on one knee, my sister’s weapon towering over him.

“TAKE OFF THE MASK!” Crystal commanded.  Her voice had risen, she was the only thing I could hear.

 _Don’t do this_ …  My cry was weaker than before.

“ _TAKE OFF THE MASK_!”

She was pleading too.  Her voice broke on the last hysterical scream.  Like some part of her saw herself clearly then, saw what she’d done, what she was about to do…

But she wouldn’t stop.  Violet raised the killing weapon just a bit higher.

And Syndrome, in one smooth motion, ripped off his mask.

It was like the whole world held its breath.  The psychic storm stopped dead.  Just silence.

One second.

Two.

I dared to watch.  It seemed time had stopped, one moment stretched out a torturously long time.  The killing strike never fell.  I saw Crystal, still breathing hard, and the forcefield flickering over my sister’s hand.  Time had passed but Syndrome wasn’t dead.  The world held its breath until Crystal took a step back, lowered her hands to hold the sides of her face, and broke the silence with a question.

“…Why didn’t you tell me?”

Vi, still copying her movements, put her hands down too.  The forcefield flickered out.  With no more death-orbs aimed at his head, Syndrome stood up and brushed off his suit.  He answered her easily.

“I know you, and—“

“—if I’m anything like you, I wouldn’t take it well.”  Crystal—she seemed so small and vulnerable—took in the scene around her.  The carnage.  She turned her head to my sister and Vi fell, a puppet with her strings cut.  “…I guess I didn’t take it well.”

My head was spinning.  I tried one last time to pull myself to my feet.  The two of them were wrapped up in whatever psychic nonsense just went down, they weren’t even concerned with me.  I could still teleport the girl out of there.  I could still…

Chrys looked so torn.  She was processing what she just did, in the context of whatever information she got from Syndrome’s brain.  There was a look of some bad emotion on her face.  Guilt.  Or horror.

The villain held out his bare hand to her—a wordless request.  He was asking her to give over her powers.  Crystal was still for a moment (maybe she knew she could still walk away).  Then she reached for him.

At the last second, she pulled back.

“One condition.” She stated.  “You don’t hurt them.  Just put them to sleep.”

The villain was grinning, I could hear it in his voice.  “Thy will be done.”

Crystal handed over her powers, and everything went black.


	22. The Nomanisan Supers

_“Reinforcements are on the way.  A whole army.  They’ll be here in two hours.  The world remembers what you did, Syndrome, we have to leave…I know what you want to do, but it’s two hours to do whatever you want to the Incredibles, and get killed for real this time, or leave now, salvage this project, and take apart their lives bit by bit.  Make them turn on each other.  Make the public hate them, humiliate them like they humiliated you, and THEN get your revenge.  We don’t have much time.  We have to go…..please?  I’m tired, and hungry, and scared.  Please?”_

 

Opal—

My head was pounding when I woke up.  I was sprawled on the sand with Brandon, just outside the jet, with one of the Incredibles shaking me awake.  It felt like hours had passed.  I was one of the last ones to wake up.  The sun was setting, painting everything in reds and oranges.  It all had a dream-like quality.  I shook off the headache and the sleepiness, and half-walked, half-crawled onto the jet.

By some miracle, the others were still there.  Sean, Ivy, Alan, and Brandon.  Even all of the Incredibles.  All of them, even the ones that kept running off.  The youngest appeared last, supporting his sister—they both look like they’d gone three rounds with a Sentry each.  The youngest boy was in shock.  He and his sister got strapped in with us.  The Dash, while he was still shaken, had recovered his vision.  He and his parents went to secure the island.  Nothing attacked us while we were rounding up our friends, but the Incredibles were sure something was going on.  We sat in exhausted silence while they raced to the base.

The Sentries and all the other security machines were standing lifeless in the forest, Dash reported to us when they got back.  There wasn’t much to secure.  The only personnel left to defend the place were the injured and the useless few who gave themselves up.  The NSA was sending agents to the island to clean up, they’d take care of those few.  The base was empty.  Mrs. Incredible said the computers had been wiped.  Not just wiped, they’d been destroyed from the inside out with a virus.  The prototypes of the weapons Omnicorp was building were destroyed, too—the ones that hadn’t been taken.  That meant no blueprints, no incriminating evidence, no memory of our time there, and no idea what the next move was going to be.  No jet, either.  The Dash said there was space where one had been just recently.  It was gone.  And so was Crystal.

I didn’t understand it.  Nobody did.  Our memories of the last few hours were foggy, at best.  Sitting in a seat on the jet as it took off, holding Sean and gripping Ivy’s hand tight, I tried to look over my memories of the last few months.  They were foggy, too.  And already starting to slip away.  I couldn’t remember what the sixth member of our group looked like…I could barely remember her name…

Sean, my little brother, nuzzled my shirt as he drifted off to sleep.  He hadn’t said a word since…whatever had happened to him on the Tidal Flats.  Ivy leaned her head back against the wall of the jet.  She looked like she could be trying to sleep, except her brow was furrowed just a bit.  She was thinking.  She was in pain.  I wondered if she was feeling guilty about the nickname we gave the blind girl.  Creepy Chrys.  Did we have something to do with Crystal’s choices?  We didn’t know what even happened to her.  We asked the youngest Incredible, he’d been with her in those last few moments.  (His sister didn’t remember a thing.)  He told us what he knew.  It wasn’t much.

Alan, he was leaned back in his seat.  One of his hands stayed over his ribs.  His eyes stayed staring into space.  Was he thinking about what the telepath took, when they were taking apart his memories and putting them back together?  We still didn’t know who did this to us.  Was he thinking about the years he was on the island?  Was he thinking about how he was cruelly tossed away by the adult he’d served all those years, or was he thinking about the sister he’d just lost?  I couldn’t know for sure.  We’d get through whatever was haunting his eyes, when we were back on the mainland.  We’d stick together.  The six…no, five of us.

Brandon, I was so worried about him but he was just sleeping, leaning on Dash.  The Dash was staying as still as he could for the little guy.  Once in a while a wisp of smoke would rise from the sleeping boy’s fingers, but that was all.  The youngest Incredible saved him.

Jack, I think his nickname was.  I didn’t think it was his real name.  I heard the Dash call him that on the beach.  He’d sure had some telepathic surgery done on his mind.  He sat next to Alan, sorting through his own trauma.  While he couldn’t remember all of what happened to him and Ultraviolet, it left a mark on him.  He said Crystal left us.  She sought out Syndrome (was that villain really back?  I couldn’t remember seeing him) and she ended up leaving.  The way Jack talked about Crystal…in my Superhero research, I remember reading that a hero never forgets the first person they couldn’t save. 

Most of the jet ride over the Pacific was filled with silence.  The only interruptions were Mr. and Mrs. Incredible talking about plans in a low tone, and Ultraviolet getting filled in on the details.  (Light hurt her eyes and her head was still spinning—I remembered waking up like that, confused and in a strange place.)  The dull sound of the jets lulled a few more of us to sleep.  Jack leaned forward in his seat, looking straight at me.  The confused young man seemed to remember something.

“She woke me up, you know.” He said.  “The girl with the white hair.  She woke me up, just for a little while, when she was alone.  She—she gave me a message to pass on.  ‘You stick with the ones that stuck with you.  Ohana, and stuff.’  A7, she called me—‘I’m curious about you…Lucky A7.  You were almost me.’  You know what she means by that?”

Ohana, and stuff.  I remembered saying it.  But I didn’t know what the message meant…or what A7 was…

I shook my head.  “No, sorry.”  He sat back in his seat and kept thinking.

I held Sean closer and looked to the front of the plane.  A sunset painted the sky outside the windshield in reds and golds.  We were headed home, at last.  One of us was gone, but we were headed home.


	23. Enigma

_“I have to say, I’m honored to have gained a meeting with Omnicorp’s elusive and eccentric founder.  I just had to get this interview when I learned he was one of Municiberg’s own…and so young…”_

_“Let me guess—you want to know the secret to my success.”_

_“Among other things.  I never caught your name…”_

_“Syndrome.  I never caught your first name, Mrs. Averry.”_

_“Just Ms. Averry.  I caught the code name.  I need your real name.”_

_“That’s not up for discussion…what is this, is this supposed to be a recorder?  Or an antique?”_

_“It is a tape recorder, it’s to document everything.”_

_“Have you heard the playback on this thing?  It sounds like you’re recording interviews on a toaster.”_

_“I like old machines, okay?  They’re more…reliable.”_

_“…I have never been so offended in my life.  Look, I could make you one ten times better, in just three days.  You must have vacation days saved up.  You can even keep the antique!”_

_“A tempting offer…you’re a businessman, let’s make a deal.  You tell me your real name, and you focus during this interview…in return I’ll let you invent me a new tape recorder.  Even if you did just insult the old one.”_

_“Tell me your first name, and I’ll consider it.”_

_“You’ll consider it…well, I’m game if you’re game.  It’s Naomi, Naomi Averry…Now yours.”_

_“Naomi.  All right…”_

 

Crystal—

A sapphire ocean rolled by, miles under the Manta jet.  (Blue—I was discovering I liked blue.)  I sat cross-legged in the copilot’s chair, headphones on, listening to a tape I’d never heard before and watching the sunrise through someone else’s eyes.  Flying—I liked flying too.  The best part of flying is the view, my mentor always thought.  The view from the wide front window of the Manta Mark II _was_ pretty cool.

I’d had my mother’s tape recorder for years (her new one, the digital one that could translate words into text files—not the dinosaur), but I’d never heard this new tape.  It had been hidden from everyone.  With good reason.  After Naomi died, and the police were looking for any clues, Syndrome had an agent raid the storage container all her stuff was thrown in.  There could be no connections.  Her old interviews became my toys, and her voice would lull me to sleep at night.  Naomi’s friend Didi (whom my mentor knew as ‘the what-are-you-wearing friend’, because that’s how she answered my mother’s phone once, “this is the Averry residence, what are you wearing?”), she figured out the truth, but there was no evidence left to prove her insane theory.

The tape—I’d listened to it twice since our departure from Nomanisan.  I wanted to memorize every word, every inflection.  The conversation between the two speakers turned into something like verbal sparring.  They both tested each other through this—well, old comic books would call it ‘banter’.  Syndrome subtly (and foolishly) accused Ms. Averry of being a fake Super fan.  Naomi, closet nerd and former vice-president of her elementary’s Elastigirl fan club, spent 11 minutes gently correcting him.   I always loved listening to recordings because you could shut everything else out and pretend the audio was happening in real time.  If you leaned back and shut out all sights, you could pretend both of them were alive, right in front of you.  Their conversation got more and more off track.  My mind wandered back to the memories I’d ripped from Syndrome’s mind…

I was so, so angry in that moment.  Nothing else mattered.  I didn’t even know if I could kill a person.  The way my telepathy, my sixth sense, works is through empathy.  To really get into someone else’s head, I had to let myself feel everything they were feeling.  (That’s why Syndrome could never use it like I could.  People’s minds are like computers to him.  He puts up too many walls between himself and the mind he’s trying to hack.)  I hadn’t killed anything with my power yet—I hadn’t even tried.  Using it to murder someone might have torn me apart, too…

It didn’t matter.  I didn’t care.

All that mattered was the person responsible for my mom’s murder would be dead.

I was so caught up in hurt and betrayal that in those last few moments, nothing could get to me.  I had some vague memory of Jack Parr trying to stop me…oh, the irony!  If he could only remember what happened to him, he would’ve _helped_ me.  Something got him out of my way.  Then I was standing over my former mentor, and suddenly the ion field keeping me out was gone, and I caught a glimpse of myself, just before the memories hit.  I was unrecognizable.  My face was a mask of hatred, so far from the little girl I’d once been.

Another world opened up to me.  At the speed of thought, I tore through my mentor’s brain, looking for one memory in particular.  If I stopped and let myself think, I would have noted how _off_ everything was.  Neuro-divergence often comes with heightened intelligence…but maybe there was something worse going on.  A downside.  Syndrome thought he’d gotten away without one.  For his own survival, he’d never acknowledge it was there.  All his memories were warped—like through a lens.  The books I’d printed and hid from him (he doesn’t like psychology, or psychologists) put words to what I’d suspected all along.  A chemical tendency towards addiction, obsession, and sociopathy.  That—plus the traumas he’d lived through—made up the mind I dove into.

(Being mentally ill equals evil, of course…I could punch whoever came up with name ‘villain gene’.  The lens warping Syndrome’s view of the world didn’t make him commit those crimes.  Five percent of the planet quietly suffers from the same thing.  He kept his downside tightly controlled, and made the choices that led both of us to that fight in that clearing.)

I had little control over my own ability.  Fragments of memories played out as I looked for that one day.

_“Tell me if this sounds familiar—“_

_“—After what you did to my family?  No, Buddy, I’m just disappointed…” (He had no right—no right—I KILLED BUDDY PINE—)_

_24 hours without sleep, and that guard—he’d been around during the Omnidroid trials too—looks up from the monitors showing nothing but jungle.  “We’re gonna have another body to throw in the volcano, eh, Boss?” He said, like it was the funniest thing in the world.  Another body to throw in the volcano.  This one, a child, dead of exposure.  Hilarious!  The guard made a really satisfying sound as he was thrown through a wall—_

_“We need to have a talk.  Soon.  Are you listening to me?” …Fine, she could sulk if she wanted, there was still a lot of work to be done.  Blueprints to be drawn up, deals to be made, memories to be modified, et cetera.  Chrys would still be there when the work was done.  It was all for her, after all—_

_Ten years, had it really been ten years since the Incredibles took my glory, destroyed my work, and killed me?  Ten years to the day—people in Municiberg were celebrating it as the anniversary of the Supers’ return.  It was all over the TV.  The Incredibles were there, of course.  The heroes of their own twisted, censored story.  Ten years of hiding and waiting…It should be my turn in the sun.  Those few seconds of victory are still burned in my mind.  Soon enough, the Syndicate’s going to reveal itself to the world.  It’ll be the greatest Superhero team since the Incredibles.  And when the time’s right, their leader will come forward (for some reason I always picture her with red hair) and tell the world how it really happened.  She’d talk, and millions would listen.  That was the shining light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.  Soon enough—_

_“—Put that game down, it’s going to rot your brain.” I commanded.  The kid spent too much time on that thing.  “What am I supposed to do instead?” “I don’t know, learn something.”  Crystal—with a lot of sighing—slowly put down the device.  “Fine.”   Straightening up, she clasped her hands on the work table and innocently asked, “So where do babies come from?”  …oh no.  Oh no.  I am WAY too young to be having this talk—wait…that little sneak.  “You win this round.  Play your game.”  She grinned, victorious, and picked up her game again.  Kid’s getting too smart for her own good.  Wonder where she gets that—_

_A2 was frozen.  Frozen in the middle of the workshop.  The killing thing he’d botched was still firing electricity, making the zero-point-energy field in front of it crackle and waver.  His face was all hate and fear.  He really meant to kill me—after all I’d done for him!  …In hindsight, of course he’d turn against me.  Mr. Incredible, the Omnidroid, the reporter, Mirage…everything does—_

_“YOU LIAR!” the kid screamed, shouting down from the edge of a half-finished jet wing.  (No external turbines on the Manta Mark II—it’d be basically child-proof.)  “Elastigirl would NEVER marry Mr. Incredible!  He’s too—I mean, she’s so much better than—“ “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’!”  Crystal disappeared, laughing, to flop on what would be the jet’s floor.  The news turned her whole little world upside down.  Alan, the new kid, rolled his eyes._

_There was no loud “Eureka!”, nothing so dramatic.  (There was no one else in the room to be dramatic in front of.  No point, really.)  The hologram was functional.  A real hologram, the stuff of science fiction.  It was still primitive, but just a few months and some new software would fix that.  Designing tech to replace Crystal’s eyes lent a few insights—pun intended—into how light could be manipulated.  Sure, holograms weren’t destructive, they could barely be weaponized, but…I could think of a few cool uses for them.  Like making them look like certain people, using certain people for target practice. Yeah.  Chrys would call that ‘therapy’—_

_“You work too much, Dad…”  The kid was so out of it on meds, she couldn’t know what she was saying.  But still.  It caught me off guard.  I reminded the kid—half asleep in her med wing bed—to call me by my name.  ‘Dad’, now that was a thing I wouldn’t touch with a 39-and-a-half-foot pole.  She must’ve picked that word up from some movie.  Her dad was dead, I saw to that myself.  She drifted off and I kept working on alternative transplant options.  Three—count ‘em, three—transplants rejected.  That surgeon I’d flown in had some questions to answer, that was for damn sure—_

_Omnicorp was back online.  Of course, underground weapons dealers don’t have corporation names, but it was my company, and always will be.  Without Mirage—that backstabbing snake—things were a lot more difficult.  But the work was done.  Omnicorp was back—_

_“Catch me!”  If I’d turned around, I’d have seen that stupid, ambitious, suicidal four-year-old climbing up the scaffolding.  I had to oversee renovations in what used to be the island’s central chamber.  (Leave a bunch of men to do it and they’ll screw up every half hour, like clockwork.  Mirage would be taking care of this, but…oh well, I didn’t need her.)  There could be no signs of life from the outside of the base, but inside?  I still had control.  “Catch me!” “Not now, playtime’s over.”  She couldn’t see, but that didn’t stop her.  I wondered if she even knew she was—“Catch me!” “I said no, Gadget—“ I turned around and oh God, she was really up high.  Four stories and the ZPE wasn’t even turned on—“Catch me!”  My finger was on the button, and I shouted for her to stop, but did she listen?  Nope.  She fell in slow motion, each second like a year.  I caught her in a ZPE field just above the floor.  Naomi’s stupid kid was fine, but that little incident took about ten years off my life, Jesus CHRIST.  Why do kids think they’re immortal?!  That was the end of the ‘catch me’ game we’d invented—_

The memories I was getting, they were close, but not what I was looking for.

_“Oh no…” Just a second to think about my luck, then a hard impact.  The world was full of a roaring noise that shook every bone, it made it impossible to think, the jet turbine was a blur right behind me right behind me RIGHT BEHIND ME—_

This one I couldn’t stop.  It happened sometimes, in my mentor’s brain.  My books called it a flashback.  I’d just caught bits of it as a kid (like when I yanked on my mentor’s cape, yelling “Drag me!”).  I could feel the noise of the turbine in my own bones…it was terrifying.

_Nothing to hold on to—what a way to die—oh God, the cape is going to get caught—I can feel the heat off the engines, I don’t want to die—the CAPE—_

_One quick, painful yank, and I’m sprawling back on some rough surface in the dark.  I can still feel the heat from the explosion on my face.  Is my shoulder broken?  I can’t be dead…_

Finally, the flashback let up.  I knew how that ended.  Syndrome took a while to wait out the pain.  By the time he’d gotten up, it was full dark.  He still remembered where he was.  It was an old Super lookout, one of the places die-hard Super fans would wait for a glimpse of their favorite heroes in action.  It was abandoned, and there was an Omnicorp building nearby that offered shelter.  Syndrome never analyzed that moment too closely, but his injuries should’ve been way more severe.  His hearing was fine in the end.  Teleportation isn’t Jack Parr’s only power, it seems…

That wasn’t the memory I was looking for.  I aimed for the middle of the real shadowy place in his mind.  The months just after his defeat were dark and all blurred together.  As soon as the memory started playing out, I knew I’d found the right one.  We were going to relive that horror, in stunning high-definition.  And then I’d kill him…

_She was the last person I’d want to go to for help.  The company was in ruins, my most powerful allies were scattered, and I needed her contacts in the criminal underworld to scrape up some workers.  Desperate times.  Her voice was so cold the last time she picked up the phone, and that was years ago.  She probably hates me…not that I care.  Cold-hearted fake fan, she probably just got her story and some free stuff, then moved on to the next guy.  I’ll just make her an offer she can’t refuse, and be on my way…..I wonder if she ever regretted what she did…_

_Focusing, focusing.  The plan was to wait for her in her apartment, James Bond villain style.  The building had been swept for potential threats already, it should be an easy enough mission.  No personal agenda or unresolved issues at all in the planning of the mission, nope, none at all._

_The front door of her apartment was locked.  That wouldn’t be a problem, but there was music coming from inside.  Someone was home.  Murphy’s Law strikes again._

_She lived alone, it would be just her in there.  I wanted to get this over with.  The music inside stopped for a moment and I rang the doorbell._

_I heard her walk up to the door.  The light coming through the peephole went dark, I know she saw me.  She took one step back, then another, and suddenly she was a panicked flurry of action in the apartment._

_That went well._

_I didn’t know what to do.  Would breaking the lock and coming inside be too forward, or should I let her calm down?  She couldn’t call the police, a handy device installed on her landline made sure of that.  Next thing I heard was her shouting at someone—shouting through the phone.  Not the police, but still, not good._

The memory here gets fuzzy, drifty.  Something bad is about to happen.

_“Hey—Naomi, there’s no need to—“_

_“I KNOW what you did!”_

_She’d heard what the Incredibles had to say about me.  And she believed it._

_I tried to explain.  All right, coming up with lies on the fly was never my strong suit, but I had to do something.  If she’d just slow down and try to understand—_

_“Don’t lie to me, I know what you did!  I should have known when you gave me Gazerbeam’s identity!  And Gamma Jack’s, and Blazestone’s!”_

_Maybe I did give out their identities to impress her.  She was a fan of the Golden Age, what can I say?  I never thought she’d put two and two together…is that why she dropped contact?_

_“You KILLED them!  Our idols, Buddy, YOUR idols!  How could you?!“_

_Terminated…they were TERMINATED.  She used my old name when she was yelling, shouted it through the door.  That more than anything clouded my judgement.  I tried to talk over her.  If she’d just LISTEN—_

_“I don’t want to hear it.”_

_That was all she said.  She talked into the phone again, something quick about a ride out of town.  She fell quiet and I kept talking anyway, absently working on the lock.  She was moving stuff around in the apartment.  At least she wasn’t climbing out a window.  I was getting on a roll—the story I was making up had real merit, an Oscar-worthy performance—when…_

_It was silent.  Way too silent._

_The lock was made quick work of.  Lying in the middle of the apartment was—_

_She was—_

_She could’ve been sleeping.  She might’ve been, if her honey-brown eyes weren’t staring straight up at the ceiling, and there wasn’t red seeping from a line on her forehead._

_It’s impossible to say how long I was stuck in that sickening moment.  All I could think was, she’s not, she’s going to get up any second now, Naomi’s—she’s going to be really mad about the lock…_

_Her friend was still babbling on the phone.  It was lying a few feet away from Naomi’s hand.  The tinny voice was shouting, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying.  There was a click, and just silence.  Just silence._

_She’s going to be so mad about the lock…_

_A door to the left opened and a toddler—of all things, a toddler—ran across the mad scene.  She clumsily put her hands on Naomi’s face.  It wasn’t until she inspected her own blood-covered hand that I was jolted out of that zero-point-energy stasis._

_No, no, no, no, someone was saying.  I remember pulling the shocked kid away from Naomi.  The kid could’ve hurt her.  The kid’s hands were still covered in blood, and she looked like she was about to start wailing.  No, no, not good.  I had to get the kid cleaned up.  There was red on my hands too but it never registered.  I picked up the kid and found the kitchen sink.  Naomi would wake up any second.  She was just unconscious, like in the movies.  Just like in the movies._

_I got the water on and my gloves off, telling the kid everything would be fine, just have to get the red off, everything’s going to be okay,_

_When the world exploded._

_It was like an atom bomb went off in my skull.  It was all I could do to not drop the baby.  Sights, sounds, and a thousand voices, all beamed right into my head.  It was worse than an accidental jolt from a live wire.  Lasted longer, too.  It’s a miracle I got the kid into her high chair.  I was having some sort of out-of-body experience, and it wasn’t fun._

_Whatever it was, it wore off a minute later.  The comedown was awful, like I’d been on a three day caffeine-and-inventing binge…What was that, some kind of weapon?  The building had been swept!  I could’ve sworn I saw…I felt…Naomi, her fading voice.  Little bits of her last thoughts._

(The human brain’s still active after death, sending out sparks like a short-circuited CPU.)

_I’d seen people die before, dozens of times.  I’d watched most of their bodies sink into lava without a second thought.  But it was never a civilian.  It was all wrong.  If she was going to die, she should’ve died in some spectacular way, not alone in some apartment with…_

_The kid.  Why was she there?  I scraped together enough brain-power to take a good look at her.  Naomi was ‘sitting someone else’s baby, that had to be it.  She was a way better babysitter than Carrie, or whatever her name was—that teenager was either on drugs or needed drugs.  (The S stands for social services.)  The toddler just stared up at me with icy blue eyes (was there something wrong with her eyes?) and she looked like a little Naomi…_

_In the living room, Naomi had been throwing baby stuff into a bag.  All around the apartment were signs that a toddler lived there.  They were both in photos on the walls.  That would mean…the reporter had a kid.  She did look like her mom.  Except for the eyes, and the little freckles across her nose, and the reddish hair…_

_…oh no._

The emotion here could only be described as…“mental blue screen of death”.

_In her chair, the kid hiccupped.  She still looked like she was going to cry.  In my infant care experience, that was not a good thing.  I picked her up again (carefully—didn’t want a repeat of three minutes ago) and started pacing.  Why didn’t Naomi say anything?  Because she suspected I was behind a few disappearances?  Uncool.  You don’t let someone find out about—what was her name, Chris?  Crystal?  Named after her grandma, I’d guess—like that.  You send ‘em a card on Father’s Day.  Why would Naomi try to hide…?_

_It was a lot to decipher.  A lot of hurt.  Naomi, the kid, whatever the hell happened to me earlier, it was a little too much.  And the police were probably on their way, right, right._

_What to do with the baby?  Hard to say where she’d get thrown, if no relative would take her.  There was something wrong with her eyes, too, some kind of cataract.  The world isn’t kind to people who are different in a bad way.  I couldn’t leave her, not a chance…_

I let the memory go there.  The rest was history.  Through the brain fog and dissociation, Syndrome managed to grab the bag my mom had been packing, and left with little me clinging to him.  He didn’t even remember moving my mom so she’d look more natural—like she could be sleeping.  No one commented when their boss turned up with a kid.  He’d come up with some cover story, about Prometheus Corp and genetically modified human weapons, and if his employees didn’t buy it, they’d never say it to his face.  A few guards figured out the truth when I was three, and planned to sell me to another Supervillain as leverage.  They were…dissuaded.  After that, he had to change how I looked.

A few months of careful experimentation later, he’d figured out his power, and mine.  Nomanisan allowed him to test the ranges of my power…it was like a drug, a rough one.  (No one mentioned powers sometimes sucked.)  His reasons for keeping me around weren’t 100% pure, I know (some of them were narcissism too, that by-proxy “my homeschool student can kick your honor student’s butt” narcissistic pride some people have).  I watched myself grow up through Syndrome’s eyes.  Raising me was a great—if exhausting—adventure, he’d admit to himself.  Nothing was like I thought it was.  I processed it all in just a few seconds, and finally realized the truth…

Naomi Averry was an accident.

My mother came to Syndrome a reporter determined to get some story—determined enough to track down Omnicorp’s HQ and get all the way to his second-in-command.  Naomi Averry was intelligent and honest (not to mention attractive).  They’d shared an old dream, not a weakness.  They were both part of the generation that grew up thinking anything was possible—only to get cruelly shut down when the Supers disappeared.  They wanted to help people, that’s why they started their careers.  My mom wanted to find out the truth and bring it to light.  And after a few glasses of something called ‘cabernet’, she said she wanted to be there the _moment_ the Supers came back.  _I can make that happen_ , Syndrome smiled at her and thought.  She had an uncanny ability to hit right where it hurt, too.  One night she was getting a head start on her article (while she was still on vacation—can you say “workaholic”?) and doing that thing I do—where I bite the edge of my thumbnail.  Syndrome (jealous of all the attention he wasn’t getting) told her to cut it out, that was a gross habit, and she just countered with, “You laugh like a cartoon villain.”  Right where it hurt.

In confidence, Syndrome probably gave her too many island secrets.  He showed off a bit too much.  But he never had control over things like that—it was rare someone got under his skin, but when they did, they had all of him, all of his devotion and eagerness to please.  When he’s mad there’s no limit to what he’ll do.  Same with every other emotion.  She got to call him by his old name.  Naomi even got to see the workshop…and the Omnidroid.

The seventh Omnidroid was standing dormant in the middle of the huge workshop.  She walked right up to it, in awe.  She turned around and asked something weird—“What does it dream about, you wonder?”.  She knew it had an AI but didn’t believe it until she saw the thing.  Artificial intelligence was still the stuff of comic books.  Syndrome just said it’s a machine, who cares, and she kept walking towards it like it was some great animal, with her hand stretched out.  Then Syndrome noticed the remote on a nearby work table…and got an awful idea.  Naomi was inches from the Omnidroid when it hummed to life, stood up a little taller, and looked right at her.  She scrambled back like the Devil was after her (to use my paternal grandmother’s phrase), and boy, when she saw the remote and pieced together what happened, she was _mad_.  Fake-mad though.  Mad, and trying not to laugh, at the same time.

My mind was reeling, still putting together a mental picture of my mother.  (The tape recording ended, and I was left with only white noise.)  She was a civilian.  Totally non-Super.  I tried to figure out how it could all be a trick, they could all be fabricated memories, just another way to twist the truth and brainwash me.  People can do that—fake memories—right?  …No, fake memories wouldn’t hurt like that.  Everything I saw and felt was real.  My mom was just a reporter.  She could’ve been a hero, though, in the way that Syndrome was—with technology.  My mom would’ve made a great Superhero.  She would’ve loved flying.  If she’d just _listened_ , and not tripped over…

“…the corner of that damned carpet.” I muttered to myself.  “It always stuck up.  I was always tripping over it.”

“Gadget, don’t curse.” Came a quiet command from the jet’s pilot.

“It’s a little late to be parenting at me.” I replied.  Not too cocky, cautious.  It was a half-hearted attempt to make jokes about what happened on Nomanisan.

“Reflex.” Was the only response.  Parenting reflex, right.  Not something one can switch on and off at will.

The adrenaline and rage keeping me going the last 12 hours were gone.  Exhaustion was hitting me like an Omnidroid.  I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and listened to the sounds of the jet for a while.

“…are we Supers?” I dared to ask.  The question had been tearing me apart for a while.  As usual, my mentor had an answer, and he believed every word of it.

“No…Do you honestly feel like one of them?  Did you ever?  No, we’re something different.”

We were.  There’d always been a gap between me and the Super children.  They always left me behind.  Too weak to be a Super, too weird to be a civilian.  I didn’t belong with either group.  I belonged on that Manta jet, bound for a foreign land.

“Why didn’t you tell me I’d have this power?”  It would’ve saved me a lot of pain.

“…You would’ve hated every second waiting for it.”  I didn’t pry too much into why he knew that.  I got from his mind a bunch of scientific data, stolen from NSA servers, about the half-Super phenomena.  Not much was known about it.  I could’ve waited…ten, twenty years to get my powers.  There was a chance I’d never get them.  I was still mad, about all the secret-keeping, but everything was out in the open at last.  That wound was raw, but healing.

“…now you want to ask me something.” I started.  “You wanna know how I like seeing again.  What I think of the _aesthetic_ world.  Well, it’s not that great.  It’s busy, confusing, and it gives me a headache…Nice to see people, though.  A lot of them look different than I imagined…speaking of which…the hair was a surprise.”

“Yeah, well, you were too recognizable.  Someone would’ve—“

“I didn’t mean _my_ hair.”

Silence.

“You get your sight back, and the first thing you do is critique my hair.  Classic.  Have you seen _yours_ lately?”

Maybe things were going to be okay between us, after all.  I didn’t correct him on the sight thing—I was blind, always will be—I just kept pushing it.

“Not just your hair.  I have a great memory now.  Remember—remember the time I was saying, like, “Elastigirl was a Golden Age feminist icon”?  And you said, “Feminist?  In that outfit?”  And now, look what you strut around in.”

“Watch it.”

“Superheroes—well, I like to think they’re all equal, on the sluttiness scale.”

“…You get this from your mother, Crystal.”

“Enigma…it’s not Crystal, it’s Enigma.” I said, before he could blow up at the ‘slut’ thing.

That’s what my name would be.  Enigma.  I repeated it to myself, out in the forest.  It was something the other Syndicate kids called me.  Gadget was a little kid’s nickname, I couldn’t use it forever.  Enigma just seemed…right.  Dissociative identity disorder was a great coping method—I found that out digging around in my mentor’s brain.  It’s how you compartmentalize away all the trauma and the doubt.  Those bad things that happened?  They happened to someone else.  They can’t touch you if they happened to someone else.  Crystal Averry died bit by bit, starting when her mother was killed in front of her.  She was weak, and she got her friends and her home taken away.  She was dying from the moment she got her powers.  The fire and the chaos of just a few hours ago finished her off for good.  I stepped in to take her place—something stronger, wiser, ruthless and untouchable.  It’s what the other kids thought I was.  An enigma.  That’s what I’ll be.

“Enigma.”  My mentor tested out the sound, liking it and committing it to memory.  “Well then, Enigma…you say “Superheroes” and “them” like you aren’t gonna be one.”

My heart jumped a little bit.  I was still going to be a hero.  I was still his sidekick.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re still grounded.  Oh, yes—you’re a whole new LEVEL of grounded.  You’re so grounded, they’re going to have to invent a new WORD for how grounded you are.”

Aaand my heart sank—what I did to his plans and the Syndicate wasn’t forgotten. 

“…but first, we need to get you a suit.  Something more modest, you’re still a shrimp.”

A suit.  My own suit!  My own armor, the thing that’ll really turn me into Enigma…I couldn’t wait to wear the mask.

“I’m sending you in on a mission alone.  Edna’s a bit…totally off her rocker, so you’ll be wearing a comm device.  I’ll help with the negotiations, but other than that, you’re on your own.  Think you can handle it?”

“I can do it.” I said, with absolute certainty.

“Pass on a message for me—tell that old bat her cape suggestion didn’t work out.”

I nodded and yawned.  My battered body was telling me it was time for sleep.  The only noise was the jet’s engines as we lapsed into a comfortable silence.  For all I’d destroyed, Phase 1 of the project was still in effect.  We could salvage it.  We could complete it ourselves.  And I knew just where to start.

I wanted Jack Parr.


End file.
